


What Our Souls Were Meant To Do

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Falling In Love, M/M, Pressure to Marry, Prince Harry - Freeform, Shakespearean Era AU, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: All Harry’s father wants is for his son to marry as soon as possible and give their family another heir. All Harry wants to do is fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

The chair Harry is currently sitting in is just as hard and uncomfortable as it was when he was forced to sit here as a child. Banished here to the book room to complete his studies by his tutors when his attention wandered elsewhere. As a grown man, his ability to focus isn’t much improved. Being forced to learn the histories of the kingdom held Harry’s interest about as well as Lady Caswell’s description of her most recent visit to the countryside that has been dragging on almost a full hour. Harry is convinced that if a fly were to land in her mouth she’d scarcely notice as she hasn’t closed it since she arrived. A nervous habit he presumes.

So far, she has given a favorable accounting of everything from the blossoms on the trees to the state of the roads. Harry smiles politely and nods each time she brings up some other detail of her trip, his eyes routinely drifting towards the door where her chaperone and his servants’ presence keep him rooted in his seat rather than fleeing as he’s been fantasizing about ever since Lady Caswell sat down across from him with the objective of securing his affections.

He silently prays for something to happen somewhere that would require him to leave like a privy council member needing to speak with him about some important matter of state, or perhaps a tiny declaration of war upon the kingdom. Something. _Anything_ to let him escape this anguish. This torture. This-

“Your Highness? Please forgive the interruption,” comes a surly voice from the door.

“YES!” Harry smiles at one of his father’s advisors with so much enthusiasm everyone in the room including his guest blinks in surprise as he stands up from his chair. “Er- I mean, yes?” he says in a much calmer tone. “Has something urgent happened? Am I needed somewhere?” Maybe there’s a famine.

“Uh- Well, yes and no?” the old man frowns. “Your father would like to speak with you in private.”

“Oh. Right.” It’s not exactly the interference he was hoping for. Honestly, being stuck with his father is almost as bad as being stuck here, but if it gets him out of this room, he’ll take it.

“I better be on my way then,” Harry says, turning to Lady Caswell to offer her a look of overwhelming regret. “My Lady, I am very sorry to have to leave you so soon.”

“No, Your Grace,” she says as she bows her head, letting her long, golden curls brush along her left shoulder. “It was a pleasure speaking with you today. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

Her eyes are like amber shining beneath the sun when she smiles. But even as beautiful as she is, Harry can’t exactly say the same so he doesn’t, politely grinning back instead and dropping a light kiss to her hand before exiting the room as quickly as his feet will carry him without running.

The sound of his boots echoing through the palace corridors is the only sound as Harry follows the man who summoned him. _Saved_ him really, but not for long. They reach the throne room and Harry’s stomach sinks having arrived there much quicker than he would’ve liked.

The doors are thrown open by the two men standing guard outside of them, giving Harry a full view of the hollowed space flooded with sunlight and whose ceiling seems to stretch on forever. The sleek polished floors and tapestries of deep emerald with their family’s royal crest embroidered upon them have always made this one of the most beautiful rooms in the whole palace to him, but it’s the large, menacing throne at the head of the room along with the impatient and disapproving man watching him from it that makes Harry avoid this place like the plague.

Harry walks closer, noticing his companion has fallen by the wayside. He gives a low bow, listening as he’s announced before the king.

“His Majesty, The Prince,” the old man says before quietly ducking out of the room. If only Harry could be so lucky.

They both stare at each other in silence once they’re left alone.

“Well?” his father asks, his golden crown tilting along with his head in expectance. It looks painfully heavy and it is. Harry knows because the weight of his own smaller version of it always gives him a headache whenever he’s required to wear it. He dreads the day he’ll have to trade it in for the one currently glinting before him.

He’s not entirely sure what the king’s single question refers to. “Uh, you wanted to speak with me, father?”

“Yes, of course. I want to hear your thoughts on Lord Caswell’s daughter. You’ve spoken with her nearly an hour. You must have some opinion of her.”

Harry has several opinions of her, none of which align with the ones his father so obviously wants to hear from him.

“I- I think she’s lovely.”

“Good. As you know, their family’s business and trading are very important to us. Go on,” the king nods approvingly.  

“I enjoyed her company very much.” It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s also not a lie.

“Enough to marry her?”

Harry blinks down at the polished floor beneath his boots, wishing he could disappear through it. Lady Caswell is no more to blame for talking nonstop all afternoon to try and win him over than she is for his father handpicking her to dangle under his nose.

“What’s wrong with this one?” his father asks tersely, taking Harry’s silence as rejection of yet another suitable bride of _his_ choosing, making Harry wince before meeting his gaze again.

“Nothing’s wrong with her, father. I just…” Harry blinks at the floor again when his father raises a brow at him. “I just don’t know her very well is all. As you said, I barely spoke with her an hour,” he explains making his father scoff.

“You can get to know her _after_ you’re married and she’s carrying your heir,” he snaps. “You don’t have time for sentiment. I won’t live forever, Harry, and neither will you.”

As he’s been told again and again since the day he came of age. He’s twenty-one now and clearly not much has changed. “Yes, I know, father.”

“And what do you suppose is the fate of a queen-less, heir-less, king? Because as of now, our blood-line ends with you.”

“I- I know,” Harry stutters out. “And I know I need to marry, and I will, father. I just want a little more time.” His father scoffs again, but Harry doesn’t see how it’s a bad thing to want love rather than obligation. To actually _like_ the person he’s going to be stuck with forever. “…You and my mother,” he begins before the look of warning his father gives him has him biting his tongue.

“Yes, I was in love with your mother and she loved me,” he says. “We didn’t choose it. At first, we didn’t even like each other, but it was right in the end and she gave me you.”

His father was already betrothed to someone else when he was ordered to marry Harry’s late mother instead because of her family’s better stature. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t know her for very long, but from what he remembers of her kindness and beauty, his father didn’t have any choice but to fall in love with her. It’s hard to believe there was once a time when his father smiled rather than scowled. Now nothing seems to please him. Least of all, Harry.

“I know that you _grew_ to care for each other in time, but, father, didn’t you ever wonder-?”

“No, I didn’t,” he answers before Harry can even finish his question. “Because I too was the only son of the crown and I respected my country and my father’s wishes enough to do as I was told.”

Harry doesn’t speak for a long time after such finality.

“I can invite Lady Caswell back to the palace sometime so that we may talk again. Perhaps even to dine,” Harry offers, by which his father looks _moderately_ appeased.

“Good. At least that’s something,” he approves. “And in the meantime, _I’ll_ send for Lady Housley. True, she’s nowhere near as beautiful as Lady Caswell, Lady Morris, Lady Wiltshire, Lady Duncan, _or_ the Princess of Daedon,” the king lists off on his fingers with an air of annoyance aimed right at him, especially over the Princess. “But, you never know,” he grumbles. “Lightning may strike.”

*

Once Harry is dismissed he hurries out of the throne room almost as fast as he ran away from Lady Caswell. He takes the quickest route through the corridors to reach his wing of the palace, his face lighting up when he spots his favorite Duke and friend in all the land standing at his bedchamber door.

“Niall!” Harry hugs him tight, instantly forgetting all the unpleasantness he had associated with this afternoon because nothing could ever be bad with Niall here. “What are you doing here?” he smiles. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.”

“Well, technically I wasn’t,” his friend explains. “I was supposed to head into town to go check the sanctions of an acting company that includes some very talented friends of mine, all by the order of my father. Which of course, was really an order for _him_ to go do it from _your_ father, and we all know how much the king just _loves_ the theatre,” he smirks. He loves it enough to have outlawed it for nearly three years before grudgingly reinstating it again at the request of his people.

“Funny how pesky orders like that always seem to trickle down to you,” Harry chuckles, constantly amused by Niall’s knack for story telling since they were children, as well as his ability to somehow manage pull off being both a nobleman and a normal person with friends who are rebel actors and playwrights. A privilege Harry has always envied. “Well, go on, then,” he grins to encourage him. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Right, so anyway, I’m on my way to go handle my father’s responsibilities and visit my friends down at the play house when I heard a scandalous rumor that you were entertaining a special guest in the _private_ book room of palace _all_ afternoon.” The mention of Lady Caswell suddenly makes Niall’s story a lot less amusing for him especially since the fact that he remains unmarried generates a great deal of rumors about him every day. “Well, anyway. I found out who you were supposedly entertaining and realized how torturous that must’ve been- no offense to the Lady of course, it’s just that she never shuts up- and so, here I am! At your service to rescue you and save the day!”

Harry laughs at his friend and his tale even though he no longer needs rescuing. “Thank you for thinking of me in such desperate times, Ni, but I think I’m safe now. She’s gone and my father already got to me to have the heir talk again.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid that wasn’t very much fun either,” Harry sighs against his door.

“I bet. Sounds awful,” Niall laments before smirking up at him. “Want to see how much wine we can drink before sunset and then fuck off to town with me?”

Harry hugs his friend tight around the neck again, certain he’d lose his mind if it weren’t for him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Harry smiles.

The sky is a nice, deep purple by the time Niall deems them drunk enough to sneak Harry out of the palace. Harry stands in the dressing room of his bedchamber, changing out the heavy embroidered coat he wore all day for something a little less formal that he can actually breathe in. He has been a prince since he woke up this morning and has taken on all the royal duties and responsibilities of one, but tonight, he just wants to be Harry. For a little while at least.

“Niall? If you didn’t know me and you saw me, would you know who I was?”

His friend’s face is unreadable as he stares at Harry wearing the simplest things he owns. “Yes. Who else could afford to have roses carved into the heel of his boots? Or would even think to ask in the first place?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he swiftly steps out of his favorite boots, choosing a plain pair instead. “Now?”

Niall looks him up and down for a moment before sporting a supportive grin. “Perfect! Those boots don’t have a speck of dust on them so you still look filthy rich, but we’ll just toss them over the palace wall before we climb over it. With any luck, they’ll land in some mud.”

*

Sneaking past the guards has always been a tricky sort of art form but one he and Niall perfected years ago. They take the secret tunnel leading out of the west tower and out by the stables since their usual path through the palace chapel is blocked tonight by the people inside actually using it for prayer rather than an escape route.

“Over you go,” Niall calls from the other side of the palace wall. “Boots first.”

Harry gives a huff as he steps out of his shoes and slings them over the wall one by one. He secretly hopes they’ll hit Niall but of course they don’t. They also don’t look any different when Harry drunkenly climbs over next and hops down next to his friend.

“Jesus, these things are indestructible. How the hell are they still so clean?” Niall marvels as the boots are snatched out of his possession so they can go back on Harry’s feet where they belong. It’s not like anybody is going to care enough to look at his feet anyway. Tonight, he’s blending.

They take Niall’s carriage into town where things are so much livelier and more exciting than they ever are at the palace this time of evening. Or ever really. None of the people strolling past even look twice when he and Niall stop outside one of the busiest taverns on the street where everyone seems to be thoroughly enjoying themselves before staggering over to The Blackwater Theatre for all the fun to continue. A place that didn’t receive a single visitor in the time acting was banned throughout the kingdom, but now has so many patrons each night they all hardly fit.

Harry can’t wait to be one of them.

“You actually have friends in here?” Harry snorts, marveling at the crowd of people laughing and falling all over each other as they all file in through the theatre’s doors. It’s a madhouse.

“Course I do!” Niall shouts over the noise. “They’re my favorite people on Earth. _Besides_ you, your royal sweetness! I mean, handsome, noticeably rich commoner I’ve never met,” he corrects himself with a laugh, pinching each of Harry’s dimpled cheeks when he makes an affronted face.

Things are less chaotic the further into the theatre they go, all the commotion dying down to nothing but silence from the audience and then uproarious laughter each time the actors on stage deliver a new line. Currently there’s a beautiful woman pretending to be nobility as she glides across the stage with a man dressed as a knight desperately clunking after her in his ill-fitting armor.

“W-Wait! My Lady, please don’t go!” he shouts, fumbling to sheath his sword and somehow managing to slice through the string holding up the bottom half of his costume. The room erupts into laughter as the man’s armor goes plunging to the stage floor making him hurry to maintain his modesty, only managing to hoist them half-way up his legs before the noblewoman he was just pursuing turns at the sound of the commotion.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she gasps. “And heavens! What on Earth have you done to your armor?!”

The man blushes, but quickly recovers as he clears his throat. “My Lady, please! For your hand, I would give up everything!” he cries. “Even my trousers!”

Everyone bursts out laughing again watching the Lady reject the Knight. He still doesn’t give up though, hurrying after her yet again but not making it much further than last time before tripping over the loose pieces of his armor.

“What are you doing _now_?!” she shrieks when she turns to find the knight sprawled out on the floor.

“My Lady, forgive me,” he beseeches her. “My poor heart, it stops working at the mere sight of you. And unfortunately… so do my legs.”

Even Harry can’t help cackling aloud at the determination and fortitude of the knight to win over his true love despite his misfortunes. He can’t remember the last time he smiled so much. It’s such a happy feeling that he can’t stop himself from leaning in to his friend.

“Who is that?” Harry marvels up the stage as the knight is forced to draw his sword to protect the Lady from bandits and only defeats them by dumb luck seeing as how he hasn’t the first clue how to use the thing.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean _her_ ,” Niall smirks at the noblewoman as Harry shakes his head in answer, unable to tear his gaze away from the knight. “That’s Louis Tomlinson. Their company’s The Rogue,” Niall reveals after another of his hilarious antics on stage earns another wild fit of laughter from the crowd. “He’s pretty good, isn’t he?”

He’s more than just good. He’s arguably the funniest person Harry’s ever seen as well as the handsomest. “He’s amazing,” Harry answers, feeling almost as foolish as the knight when Louis Tomlinson briefly looks out over the crowd and his gaze settles on Harry. Their eyes only lock for a beat before he goes back to playing his role and reciting his lines, but Harry swears he felt his heart stop.

*

Two acts and a _lot_ of ale and wine later and Harry is still captivated. By the end of the play, he’s as in love with the knight as the Lady is, amazed she was able to withstand his quirky yet endearing charms for so long because Harry was sold way back in act one. The final scene closes and the theatre house explodes with so much applause the actors all stay and bow together in gratitude far more than is probably necessary. Not that Harry minds them sticking around a bit longer, because no one bows lower, smiles bigger, or makes Harry want to know him more than The Rogue’s shining star.

“I’ve got to meet him,” he says as the performers leave the stage, only realizing once they’re gone that he just said that to Niall’s back half-way across the room.

He wasn’t kidding about having friends here because it seems everybody knows and loves him. People have been coming up to them all evening to greet Niall with laughter and drunken embraces, all while ignoring the poor sod standing next to him gawking up at the stage as if pure sunlight were pouring from it.

From the looks of it, his best friend is quite happily distracted at the moment. By _two_ beautiful women flirting with him and offering him more wine. As if he isn’t already glossy-eyed and unsteady on his feet. Harry certainly is. He could definitely do to have a sit down to allow the feeling to pass but that would only waste time. As would waiting for Niall to grow tired of his new admirers and remember _why_ he needed to come to Blackwater Theatre to begin with. So Harry doesn’t bother, heading off towards the thick wooden door leading to backstage. He’ll be back from telling the knight how unequivocally brilliant he is before Niall even notices he’s gone.

There are just as many people behind the stage as there are still mingling out in the audience. The space Harry steps into is small as it is, but seems even more crowded with all the actors and stagehands milling about. His eyes search every person he passes; some still covered in stage makeup or carrying large props, however none of them are the person Harry needs.

It seems his knight has vanished, or at the very least dismissed himself from all the commotion. Harry leans back against a wall to rest his heavy head, almost ready to give up when the sight of one actor shedding his bandit costume and heading up a set of narrow stairs catches his attention. Harry follows along, aware that the dressing room the man finally turns into isn’t Louis Tomlinson’s, but one of them has to be.

Doors are visible to the left and the right of Harry, but there’s still no sign of the knight. There is however an attractive bunch of roses scattered on the floor outside some actress’s door that Harry hovers by for a moment until no one is looking and he’s able to swipe one up. Each new room he comes to is filled with people who aren’t the one he’s looking for. After a while, Harry starts to fear his knight has already left and resorts to asking random people if they’ve seen him. Most people are too busy chatting with friends and downing their wine to answer, but a few point Harry further down the corridor. There’s a closed door at the end of it that has Harry’s anticipation growing by the second the closer he gets to it. He takes a deep breath once he’s standing across from it trying to get up his nerve, feeling his already wobbly stomach become even more shaky when the door suddenly opens, his knight raises a suspicious brow noticing him there, and Harry’s shy step forward walks him right into someone carrying a large wooden beam from the stage, making everything go black.

*

Everything from Harry’s fingers to his ears seems to hum when he wakes up. That warm, tingly feeling dissipates as he tries opening his eyes, creating a series of painful throbs behind them that make him frown and groan at the unfamiliar bed he’s lying in and the very familiar voice that speaks from across the room.

“Oh, good. You’re not dead,” the voice chirps. “It would’ve been really bad for us if you were, so thanks for that.”

Harry squints to the left of him at the man getting dressed who has an uncanny resemblance to the knight Harry made it his life’s mission to find.

“Shit.”  

“Shit, is right. The Rogue have enough troubles as it is. A dead body would surely do us in,” he teases, his grin turning a bit sympathetic when Harry cradles his head with a whimper. His shirt is still largely undone when he turns to the desk to grab a cup and carefully transport it across the room. “Here. Drink this,” he says, handing it off to Harry once he sits up. “It’s just tea,” he smiles when Harry peers down at the murky liquid and sniffs it with caution.

A test sip proves his claim to be correct though the bitter taste of it has Harry less inclined to take another.

“ _Yeah_ … it’s probably not as good as what you’re used to over at the palace, but, I think the common people’s tea is quite alright. It’s cheap, but it’s got character.” 

Harry goes to laugh at Louis Tomlinson’s joke until his brain registers the word palace and he meets Louis’ gaze with trepidation.

“You know who I am?” He winces, wondering how Louis found him out until his blue eyes expertly look him over.

“Those boots don’t have a scratch on them. Your clothes could pass, and Ms. Meg and Ms. Wendy are good but even they could never pull off stitching as fine as this,” Louis says, after giving Harry’s shirt sleeve a thorough inspection.

“Er- Who are Ms. Meg and Ms. Wendy?” he frowns.

“And then there’s the fact that you’ve never even heard of the two most popular and talented seamstresses in town,” Louis grins. “Sorry. You made a very valiant attempt at being poor, but you sort of reek of privilege, mate.”

Harry groans again, but this time more out of embarrassment than pain. His head is killing him, he’s still slightly drunk, and God only knows how long he’s been in the room sleeping off the massive hit he took.

“Uh, speaking of privilege…” Harry says once Louis goes back to tying the top of his shirt presumably made by Ms. Meg or Ms. Wendy. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a friend of mine wandering around here by any chance. Duke Horan?”

“ _Duke_.” Louis sniggers to himself as he adjusts his shirt on his shoulders and ruffles his own hair to give it more shape. “Yeah, nobody around here calls him that so I think you mean Niall.”

“You… _don’t_ address him by his title?” Harry always thought that was something only he did.

“God, no,” Louis laughs. “Most people forget he even has one. I mean, his family’s so rich it’s practically a sin but we try not to hold that against him. _Much_ ,” he smirks. “Anyway, he’s around here somewhere. He’s with Liam, our playwright, talking sanctions and taxes and all that.”

Harry winces yet again. His father’s hatred of the theater and how difficult he has made it for actors like Louis is one of the reasons he wanted to blend in tonight. 

“Oh. Well, uh- I should probably go find him then.”

“Mmm. Yeah, probably,” Louis nods. “ _Or_ you can just follow me since I’m going there anyway. They should both be ready to go by now.”

“Oh. Right,” Harry nods along feeling his brow furrow. “Uh, go _where_ exactly?”

“Out, of course,” Louis announces with glee. “Tonight’s opening of The Foolish Knight was a roaring success. We’re drinking.”

He moves to head out of his dressing room, making Harry hop up to follow him pausing when Louis suddenly doubles back into the room for the single red rose lying next to the bed and safely tucks it behind his left ear. “Can’t forget this,” he smirks. “Would you believe a drunk prince nearly _died_ trying to give it to me. It was the craziest thing.”

Harry groans, sort of wishing he had died. At least then no one could see him blushing as red as a tomato for essentially stalking someone he’d never met to his dressing room and then passing out in his bed.

*

Duke Horan may be simply Niall to his close friends, however he still has official royal duties to fulfil. Luckily, he finds everything to be in perfect order with The Rogue’s sanctions meaning their acting company can continue to grow and flourish. Yet another collective win for everyone which also calls for celebratory drinks.

They walk over to the tavern everybody from the theatre has wandered back to now that the show is over. Niall leads the way to a large table followed by Liam The Rogue’s mastermind, Louis, The Rogue’s leading man, Ana, The Rogue’s leading lady, and of course Harry, the person trying his best to politely refuse the fresh cup of wine Louis places before him so he can join in the big toast.

“Er- Thank you. Th-That’s very kind of you, Louis, b-but I really don’t think-”

“What are you on about down there, Haz?” Niall frowns from the end of their table. “What’s he on about?” he whispers to Liam and Ana at his sides.

Louis’ eyes are full of mirth when he raises an eyebrow at Harry who eventually gives a resolved sigh, folding under the pressure of everyone curiously peering down the table at them. “Thank you very much for the wine,” he mutters as he accepts the cup.

“Nothing!” Louis chirps in victory. “He’s good! We’re all set.”

“Great! Let’s toast!” Niall says making everyone face him. “To The Rogue, the successful opening of their brilliant new play, to amazing friends, and… to wine!”

Harry fondly rolls his eyes as he turns up his cup to chug his drink like everyone else, but only takes a small sip.

“ _Cheater_ ,” Louis says next to him, his knowing smirk sending Harry’s stomach aflutter and only growing wider when Niall announces that it’s time to move on to the next tavern.

“Wait, what do you mean the _next_ tavern?” Harry frowns. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it! I love this place. And all the others. That’s why we’re hitting them all!” his best friend explains, already half-way out the door with Liam on his right side and Ana snuggled up to him on his left.

“ _A-All_?” Harry blinks after him and everybody else heading out to the street.

Wandering through town visiting every tavern they come across wasn’t exactly the low-key evening Harry envisioned when his best friend invited him out, but feeling himself being pulled by the arm by Louis Tomlinson laughing at his side makes their inevitable debauchery tonight totally worth it.

“Let’s go, Princey. Keep up.”

*

Harry doesn’t spend a lot of time outside the palace and whenever he does, he’s almost always on official business. He never had time to notice before tonight that this part of his father’s kingdom has _six_ different taverns. They all become a blur after a certain point though, just like all the drinks, laughter, and miles of cobblestone street they put behind them throughout the night.

The moon is still shining bright by the time they all decide to have a rest beneath a row of giant oak trees just outside the town. Harry sighs and lies back on a cushion of thick grass and wildflowers to admire the night sky, a grin tugging at his lips when a pair of crystal blue eyes hover into his line of vision to put the stars and their light to shame.

“You still trying to die on us?”

Harry rolls his eyes, noticing his head doesn’t even really hurt anymore like it did back in Louis’ dressing room. “Sorry to disappoint, but I wasn’t dead before and I’m not dead now,” Harry assures him, snorting a laugh when Louis nods approvingly at the good news and then unceremoniously flops down next to him.

“Well, thank goodness for that. How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Drunk. And also kind of hot,” Harry frowns as he attempts to kick off his boots without actually sitting up to do so meaning he’s forced to give up after only a few seconds. “Still hot.”

“That’s because it’s fucking blistering out,” Niall says from where he’s also lying in the grass a couple yards away. “I vote we go for a swim! _That’s_ what we need.” Apparently, everyone else is up for a nighttime dip as well based on the cheering Niall’s suggestion receives.

Harry was barely managing putting one foot in front of the other before they crashed here, but he guesses he can handle some leisurely floating. 

“I know a little place that’s not too far,” Louis says to the group, turning their hypothetical plan into reality as everyone cheers again as they hop up from the grass.

Harry sighs as his coordination takes longer to get him up and moving as opposed to everybody else already heading for the trees. He sees Louis glance over his shoulder at him from where he’s leading the way to this mysterious perfect, secret spot.

“Coming with us, Princey?” he calls making Niall cackle at the nickname and join in the fun.

“Yeah, H, get your royal arse over here! We want to swim!”

*

The water feels incredible once Harry finally succeeds in getting his damn boots off as well as the rest of his clothing which he left in a pile by the grassy bank before wading in. Now, there’s nothing but him and his bare skin submerged in the middle of the shallow pond everyone else is enjoying too with more stars twinkling above them than Harry can count.

A giant splash of water hits him on his left when Niall suddenly climbs out of the pond, runs and jumps in again to drench everybody in his path, forcing Harry to give up any hope he had of keeping his hair dry. Harry holds his breath and ducks his head beneath the surface to get the job done in one fell swoop, startled when he comes up for air a few seconds later and he’s splashed yet again and much harder this time.

“Hey!” he grumbles, ready to give Niall a piece of his mind until he blinks the water out of his eyes and realizes it wasn’t Niall who splashed him.

“Hey, what?” Louis grins widely as he swims closer to splash him yet again. “Is something the matter? Is his royal highness, dare I say it, displeased?”

Harry fondly rolls his eyes, sighing as he gets repeatedly soaked, feeling water pouring down his face and his chest as if he were just caught in a rainstorm. “Have you quite finished?”

Louis’ brow furrows in thought for a beat before his grin returns along with a new onslaught of attacks that leave Harry no choice but to retaliate with equal force. It’s so dark that Harry can’t even tell if he’s actually winning the splashing war or not but he must be doing a pretty good job because Louis soon raises his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright! You and your fucking massive hands win.”

Harry’s triumph is short-lived, only realizing that was a surrender as well as an insult when Louis snorts at his offended frown. “My hands are normal sized.”

“They’re really, really not,” Louis teases. “And, now you’ve got pond all over you. Come here.” He reaches out towards Harry and pulls a small green stem from his curls and brushes a few leaves off his right shoulder.

For some reason, Harry’s stomach has been all over the place tonight, steady one minute and flipping upside down the next, but each time that has happened, no one was close enough to hear the small gasp from it. Not like Louis is right now, grinning a bit when he steps back to eye Harry with much more interest than before. Almost as if he’s in on some joke that Harry isn’t.

“Uh, thank you, Louis. For the, um… that,” Harry says a million beats too late with a vague hand gesture at the pond debris Louis removed for him, now floating between them on the water’s surface again. “So, this is a peaceful little place you’ve taken us to. Do you, uh, come here often?”

Louis doesn’t say anything back right away, his expression still amused as Harry tries for casual small talk to mask how fast his heart is currently beating. “Almost every day since I was a child. I live just through those trees over there with my family,” he says absently, nodding in that general direction.

“Oh. So, you have children.” Most young men do he supposes. And Harry’s father reminds him of that every chance he gets. “How many?”

“ _Siblings_ , and plenty,” Louis corrects him with a profound fondness for them in his voice. “But, that’s not important right now. Let’s talk about _you_.”

Louis takes a step forward towards him making Harry take one step back and nearly lose his footing.

“M-Me? Why?”

“Well, with all the talk and gossip surrounding such a famous prince, I should feel like I know you. But, for some reason, I still can’t quite figure you out.” He walks a full circle around Harry, his eyes alight when he stops right in front of Harry again. “However, I do have some theories about the handsome, young bachelor prince who can’t be pleased.”

“Oh, really?” Harry says, laughing his apparent nick-name throughout the kingdom, though it’s much better than the one his father has as the stubborn, firm-ruling, close-minded king.

“Mhmm. Apparently, no one is ever good enough for you. Not even the beautifully exquisite _and highly talkative_ Lady Caswell. Though, I don’t really think any man can blame you there,” Louis jokes.

Harry laughs, though he doesn’t mean to at her expense. He quickly bites down on his smile to reign it in and clears his throat to bring order back to their conversation. “I believe you were just getting around to your theories and telling me about me. Please go on.”

“Well, besides being very impatient,” Louis mutters as he splashes Harry in reprimand, “You have the reputation of being a man who rejects every woman he meets, which could mean you’re cruel.” Louis steps forward even closer examining the features of Harry’s face until he finds something in them to make him smile. “But, you’re not cruel,” he says with completely confidence. “Your smile and your eyes are far too kind for that.”

Harry never thought about people thinking of him in such a negative light, but he’s glad to know Louis doesn’t see him that way. “You’re right,” Harry confirms. “I don’t think I’m cruel. At least, I don’t mean to be.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I’ve performed in front of a lot of people in my life but none of them have ever been thoughtful or sweet enough to creep backstage just to give me a rose.”

“Or drunk enough,” Harry adds, making Louis laugh so brightly that Harry’s stomach flutters all over again. Louis deserved that rose. Never mind that it fell from where Louis had protectively tucked it behind his ear hours ago in the madness of them gallivanting through town.

“Very true. You were off your face, but again, very charming in your efforts, which brings me to my next and final rumor-based theory,” he says, stepping so close to Harry that he can feel Louis’ toes brush over his on top of the smooth pebbles they’re standing on. “While some people may believe you’re a picky, heartless man who enjoys tormenting women in his pursuit of a wife, others think quite the opposite and believe the female and wife parts of the equation are precisely the issue.”

“O-Oh?” Harry swallows, feeling his stomach burn when his and Louis’ knees bump underwater.

“That’s right,” he says, flashing a bit more of that devilish smile of his. “I found it quite interesting when we got here that unlike Niall, your gaze didn’t immediately wander over to Ana as she stepped into the water. Actually, you didn’t seem to care that she’d suddenly stepped out of her dress at all.”

Harry hadn’t cared. How could he when Louis was undressing himself at the exact same moment making it impossible for Harry to look anywhere else? Though, no one was actually supposed to _notice_ Harry stealing looks at him. He swallows hard again, unsure if he’s more horrified at being caught or thrilled to have Louis not give a shit. “Y-You saw that?” he stutters out with his heart absolutely racing.

“Mhmm,” Louis breathes close to his ear. “And, judging by the color rising in your cheeks and the hard stick subtly poking at my thigh right now... I’d say the rumors about you _aren’t_ just rumors.”

Harry momentarily blinks away from Louis’ lips at the sound of Niall’s voice somewhere behind them, his stomach dropping like lead when Louis turns toward the sound too, like dangling two ripe cherries in front of Harry and then snatching them away just as he was about to taste them.   While his best friend drunkenly shouts at everyone about the beginning of sunset visible on the horizon, Harry wonders if he’ll ever think of anything else again besides Louis almost kissing him.

Their group makes plans to walk over to the hill visible at the end of the field leading away from the pond to watch the sun come up, but Harry doesn’t knowing staying out past sunrise will guarantee that his father hears of his little excursion if he hasn’t heard already.

“Um, actually, I’ve got to get back. _Sneak_ back,” Harry amends, chuckling at himself even though he’s gutted that he can’t join everyone else.

“I’ll go with you,” Louis offers, instantly lifting Harry’s spirits again when he glances over at Niall who seems quite content laughing with Liam and flirting with Ana rather than walking him all the way back to the palace. 

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. It’s no trouble at all,” Louis grins. “And besides, somebody has to make sure no one steals the fancy royal boots off your feet.”

“Right. And _you_ know how to fight off bandits?”

“Sure do. It’s practically my job. Six days a week, two performances per day,” he smirks before splashing Harry one final time.

*

The walk back goes much quicker than he expected, but Harry supposes that makes sense since they use the trees as camouflage and this time they don’t stop to try and drink every tavern in town dry. It also helps that there are just two people travelling now rather than all five they started the night with, but honestly, Harry thinks he might prefer it that way. With just Louis at his side, he’s able to steal as many looks at him as he wants without someone else noticing and making him feel weird about finding Louis beautiful. Whatever Louis says is meant only for Harry’s ears, and when they reach the palace wall, Harry doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t disappointed it isn’t further away because somehow, he’s still not quite ready to go home.

He keeps his fancy boots on this time when he uses the same footholds as usual to pull himself up to the top. And to his delight, Louis decides to climb up with him for a bit, admitting that he has never seen the palace this close. Especially not with the sky such a soft orange with the morning sun barely even breaking over the palace walls yet.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says making Harry feel a deep sense of pride for his home, even if he does sneak out of it from time to time just to escape it. “I mean, it’s absolutely fucking _obnoxious_ for only _two_ people to live in, but, it’s beautiful nonetheless,” he teases making Harry sigh because his laugh and smile are even more amazing in the light of day.

“No, you’re right. It’s huge,” Harry says in full agreement. “And, it can get pretty boring in there sometimes with just me and my father. But, it’s still home.” It’s the only one Harry has ever known.

“Well, if you ever get too bored in there,” he grins with softness in his gaze, “You know where the theatre is. We’d love to have you.”

It’s the most flattering invitation Harry’s ever received, and the fact that it was given by Louis himself just makes it even better. Fills him up with daring and false bravery when what he really feels are nerves dancing around his insides from fear of being let down.

“And, if I’m not bored?” Harry asks hopefully. “What if I just want to see you again?”

The seconds he waits for an answer feel like eternities that only end once the corners of Louis’ lips tug up into a wide, stubborn grin he can’t hide no matter how hard he tries.

“So, is that a yes?” Harry checks, snorting a laugh when Louis unstraddles the palace wall by swinging his right leg back over it and then gracefully drops down to the ground without so much as a word.

Which would be highly impressive if it weren’t for the fact that Louis managed to not answer his question.

“Wait a minute, that is a yes, right? _Right_?” He assumes it is based on the massive smile he’s wearing as he backs away, but with Louis, one never can be too sure.  “ _Louis_!” he whines before forcing himself to stop laughing and take on a more serious tone. “As your prince and future king, I demand that you answer me. You know, _please_?”

But all his king-like command gets him is a fit of giggles.

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t think I will actually, but, nice try, Princey,” he laughs before giving him a wave goodbye and finally turning around to start back towards town through the woods.  

Harry watches him until he disappears in the cover of the trees, only allowing himself to climb down on his side of the wall when he’s certain Louis is gone. He doesn’t land anywhere near as gracefully as Louis did. Actually, his drop back down to Earth is quite the opposite leaving him stretched out in the soft, dewy grass and grinning up at the sky like a fool. One, because he’s still a little drunk, and two, because that was probably one of the best nights slash mornings of his entire life, and Louis Tomlinson is completely to blame.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast is a little awkward that morning when Harry sits down at the table with his father and his tardiness doesn’t quite go unnoticed. Nor does his uncharacteristically unkempt appearance as the king’s eyes take in everything about him from his choice in outfit to the exhaustion visible on his face from such a long night. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on either, choosing instead to gripe and complain about the hardships of having to regulate the blasphemous theatre as per usual. As if he himself would ever deign to set foot inside a theatre to regulate a thing. He simply entrusts others like Niall and his family to do it for him.

Every new insult he spits about the blasphemous theatre and its actors who dare to call it a profession annoys Harry more and more because none of it is even remotely true. His father has always thought such awful things. That much was obvious back when he banned acting completely simply because he finds it detestable. And usually, Harry can just ignore all the snide remarks and not pay his father any attention, but today listening to him makes Harry’s blood boil.

“But have you ever been to the theatre to see a play? Have you ever actually _met_ an actor?” he blurts out.

His questioning comes out of nowhere, making the king raise his eyes from his breakfast and narrow them down the table.

The king doesn’t answer him right away. Harry wonders if he’ll answer at all with a scowl that says he had better tread lightly.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. As if the very thought is preposterous.

“So, you don’t actually _know_ , then,” Harry reasons. “These are just your assumptions?”

The room goes quiet. Even the servants look away which in turn makes Harry wonder if he suddenly has a death wish for daring to interrupt the king’s morningtime rant to begin with, but he simply couldn’t take it anymore. His eggs are going cold waiting for his father to respond to that as well as his tea which really does taste incredible compared to what he had last night at the theatre. And speaking of the theatre, if Harry’s not mistaken, he has an open invitation to visit it anytime he wants that sounds quite tempting at the moment. Never mind that he technically just left it.

Things feel too tense now. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything at all, but it’s too late to take it back now. Harry moves to dismiss himself with a quick bow, just narrowly succeeding in making it out of the room before his father’s voice stops him dead in his tracks.

“You seem to be in quite the hurry. Eager for your meeting with Lady Housely?”

Harry winces at that, slowly turning around on his heel to face his father.

“Uh- Which meeting is that exactly?”

“The one I arranged for you after hearing how you ran out on Lady Caswell as if the book room were aflame of course.”

Harry silently curses his father’s advisors for spying on him and never letting him get away with anything ever.

“That’s… not true,” Harry lies. “I, uh, I enjoyed meeting Lady Caswell very much. Um- Actually, it’s very unfortunate that you’ve already arranged for me to meet with someone else today because I was just thinking of inviting the Lady back for a, uh… a walk. Around the gardens.” Going back to the theatre as soon as possible to see Louis again was the only thing Harry had been thinking of, but his face must be more convincing than he thought because his father suddenly claps his hands together in celebration like it’s the best news he’s heard all year.

“That is fantastic to hear!” he beams. “Excellent! You two will have such a wonderful time getting better acquainted!” Harry nods in agreement with a tense grin of his own as he turns to leave again, rolling his eyes when his father’s jubilant voice bellows after him. “And just think! One day soon, you might be proposing to her right in those very gardens and exchanging ‘I do’s’!”

Somehow, catching the plague sounds more appealing.

*

His father ends up calling off the meeting he had arranged, however Harry’s blatant lie about wanting to walk Lady Caswell around the palace gardens stays and he’s forced to actually follow through.

Just like the King, she is more than delighted to be invited back to the palace for a second visit in an unprecedented event, and by Harry himself no less. She talks less this time, seemingly more at ease as they stroll past the fragrant blossoms and full fruit trees. The gardens have always been one of Harry’s favorite places. Perfect for playing and hiding when he was young; perfect for clearing his head now that he’s grown, however, today, all he feels is impatience and an eagerness to jump over the garden wall to go see the one person he hasn’t stopped thinking about since they parted.

It feels like an eternity passes before Harry is free, but he isn’t able to sneak away quick enough before his father pulls him into an advisors meeting about issues of the state that lasts another eternity and makes Harry so restless he jiggles his leg under the table and fantasizes about escaping the entire time he’s supposed to be listening. It’s nearly sunset by the time he’s able to tiptoe past the guards and across the palace grounds unseen.  He climbs over the wall and gracefully hops down on the other side without the help of Niall but he’s still just as excited about sneaking into town as he was the night before. Maybe even more so now that he knows who’s there waiting.

Harry shows up at The Blackwater Theatre and walks in, finding no one around but a few stagehands setting up the stage. He hears people in the space behind it so that’s where Harry goes next, poking his head into the backstage area to find a few more people milling about, but not Louis. Up the stairs in his dressing room is the only other place he could be, but when Harry knocks he receives no answer. Just the stern voice of someone at the other end of the corridor.

“Oi! What the hell are you doing up here?” the man calls. “Showtime’s _after_ sunset, and certainly not up h-here.” The man’s chastising comes to an abrupt halt once he steps closer, gasping when he realizes who he’s been yelling at. “Your Highness. I’m so sorry,” he says making Harry grin because he knows that head of short hair currently bowed down towards him.

“Liam!” Harry cheerfully greets The Rogue’s playwright, happy to see him even though they just said goodbye a few hours ago. “You really don’t have to do that, you know,” he chuckles, walking the last few feet left between them to straighten Liam out so that he’s standing up straight again. “And, you can still call me Harry like last night. I don’t mind. Really.” Not that Louis ever did because he has never once called Harry anything but Princey. But, oddly enough, the nickname grew on him rather quickly. Perhaps even faster than Louis himself did.

Liam looks more than grateful to be upright, his brow furrowing once his cheeks go back to their normal color rather than pink.

“Oh. Alright then. _Harry_ ,” he says to try it out and grinning along with Harry when he likes the ring of it. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, please. I’m actually looking for Louis. I thought this was his dressing room, but maybe not.” Harry has only been here once before and he was quite drunk at the time so he could definitely be wrong.

Liam’s eyes turn fond and almost knowing when he hears his friend’s name but then he’s giving Harry a deeply apologetic look. “This is his room,” Liam confirms. “But, unfortunately, he’s not here yet.”

And isn’t that just his luck.

“Oh,” Harry nods, hoping he doesn’t look quite as disappointed as he feels hearing that. “I see. Of course.” That wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for, however he guesses it was pretty likely. He can’t really expect for Louis to be here _all_ the time. He has a life outside the theatre. A whole family that he mentioned.

“ _But_ ,” Liam continues to lift Harry’s spirits. “He’s probably just held up at home still since he’s almost always running late. _And_ , knowing how much he enjoyed meeting you before, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a quick visit. If you can remember how to get to the pond from last night, that is, and you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Harry smiles with his hope and excitement restored because he could probably make it back to that pond with his eyes closed.

 

Harry only realizes how crazy it is showing up someplace he’s never been, unannounced, to see someone he hardly knows once he’s standing at the end of the dirt path leading to a small wooden house with an even smaller vegetable garden growing strong and green next to it. There’s no one outside of it but a few chickens and a brown milking cow tethered to a rickety fence, but this must be Louis’ house because it’s the only one within miles of the little pond they swam in just on the other side of the brush and trees.

He feels quite nervous as he starts toward the house, mentally rehearsing what he might say until he reaches the door and the only thing left to do is knock, hope Louis doesn’t turn him away, and if he does, blame Liam Payne for practically insisting that Harry come seek Louis out. Three quick taps against the door sends the people on the other side of it into a frenzy about someone called Lucy. Many panicked voices can be heard, but one in particular catches Harry’s ear as it rises in volume, giving out instructions to everyone about where to find this Lucy and how to bring her back because he has to get ready to leave for town soon.

“Mr. Daniels, look, I’m so sorry about Lucy and her obsession with your cabbages. I promise you we’ll replace any that she destroyed just like last time,” Louis begins with an apologetic sigh that turns into a gasp and very colorful swear word when he widens the door all the way and notices Harry standing on his doorstep. “ _Fuck_. Princey- Er- I mean, _Harry_ \- I mean, _Your Highnes_ s.”

He says it low as to not draw attention to them but everyone bustling around inside the house still hears and comes running over faster than Louis can narrow the door to hide him. Harry counts five young girls of various ages and one little boy in total, all of which gasp at the sight of him much like their brother just did, though none of them swear.

Louis quickly bows, prompting the others to do the same and then straightens up, gawking at Harry with wide, disbelieving eyes and his mouth slightly hanging open. He looks a bit different than he did last night with his hair unkempt and his outfit more fit for gardening than the stage, and yet he’s still breathtaking. Harry doubts there is ever a time that he isn’t.

“Uh, hello there,” Harry kindly greets them as Louis’ expression remains one of shock. “Sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time with Lucy and all…” he tries watching Louis discreetly pass off the rope in his hands to one of the girls standing behind him. “So… who’s Lucy anyway?” he grins.

“Cow,” Louis answers absently with a vague gesture in the direction of the one still very much tethered to their fence and not trampling through a field of cabbages. Harry tries to keep the conversation about Lucy going but Louis speaks first still blinking at him like he’s seeing things. “Your Highness, not that we aren’t incredibly honored for this royal visit, but, uh…”

“What am I doing here?” Harry finishes when Louis quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“I got bored?” he tries, chuckling a bit to himself when he feels everyone’s eyes on him and the flush he can feel creeping up his neck. “Um, actually, _really_ , I just wanted to see you. I, uh- I went to the theatre like you said but you weren’t there, and I was going to just wait but then I ran into Liam and he mentioned that you might be here, so I just thought maybe I’d drop by to say a quick hello or wish you luck. For tonight,” he explains, listening to his story become crazier by the second the longer he rambles. “This really isn’t a good time, is it?” he realizes too late. “It’s not. It’s really not and I’m so sorry. I should go. Right? Don’t answer that. Er- I’ll just- I’m gone. Sorry again.”

Harry raises his gaze to find Louis still staring at him, but all the initial shock is gone and replaced by an amused, yet endeared grin and a fondness in his blue eyes that has Harry’s stomach fluttering like mad.

“Your Highness, would you like to come in for a bit?”

All of Louis’ siblings look thrilled with that plan but no more so than Harry is. 

“Please. But only if you agree to stop calling me that,” Harry chuckles. “And you agree to introduce me to your lovely family. Including Lucy.”

“Okay. Deal,” Louis laughs as he steps aside to let Harry in. “Welcome.”

Louis keeps his word, introducing him to every one of his siblings over tea that tastes quite similar to what he had at the theatre but slightly less bitter. He is offered fresh milk and food from their little garden every few minutes, which Harry politely declines each time because from what Harry can tell, their family doesn’t have much, however it’s obvious that they all take great pride in the few things they do have. Most of all, each other.

As promised, Harry gets to meet the infamous Lucy, though Louis saves that introduction for last, watching on as Harry says goodbye to each of his siblings before leading Harry outside to where Lucy is snacking on a patch of yellow dandelions.

“I think she likes these almost as much as Mr. Daniels’ cabbages,” Louis says, bending down to pick a few of the weeds and feed them directly to the cow.

Harry copies him, laughing when Lucy’s lips tickle the inside of his hand. “She seems pretty harmless. Sweet even,” he smiles as Lucy plucks more dandelions from his grasp.  

“Yeah, she is,” Louis chuckles. “She’s been good to us and we all have a soft spot for her. Even if she has been driving us all crazy for years.”

“Who named her?” There are more cows and other farm animals at the palace than Harry can count, however none of them have ever been given names. They also aren’t this valued and so obviously loved in his family. Mostly, they’re just taken for granted Harry now realizes and it makes him a bit sad.  

“Ah, yes. That would be my mother,” Louis smiles. Harry doesn’t miss the note of happy nostalgia and also longing in his voice confirming what he had already feared.

“So, it’s just you and your siblings, then?”

“Yep. Our mother died a few years ago so it’s just us,” he reveals. “Well, us and Lucy here of course,” he grins as he runs his fingers through her soft fur.

“And you take care of them all?” Harry can’t imagine. Louis can’t be much older than himself.

“I’m glad to,” Louis says without a moment’s hesitation. “But, everyone does their part to help out as much as they can, so really, we take care of each other.” When Harry’s mother died, there was just him left and his father whom he’s never really seen eye to eye with. He’s glad Louis has people in his life that he cares about so much. “It was really hard finding steady work for a long time but thankfully, your father lifted the theatre ban three years ago so I was able to start doing that. I know it’s not the most useful or respected job out there, but it keeps food on the table and it keeps me and my siblings together, which is the most important thing.”

Louis sounds so grateful just to be given the chance to be an actor. Even when his king pays theatre workers as little as possible, taxes their playhouses more than anyone else’s place of employment, and generally treats them like second rate criminals. Harry isn’t sure many people could find the good in a hopelessly frustrating situation like that, but then again, most people aren’t Louis.

“So, let me get this straight. Not only are you an amazingly talented and gifted actor, but you’re also an incredible big brother, stand-in parent, and sometimes, a professional cow wrangler,” Harry teases, earning himself a bright laugh with crinkled blue eyes that Harry could stare into forever. “Is there anything else I should know about you, Louis? Any more surprises?”

“Well, I’m quite fast when I need to be, which you’ll soon find out since I probably should’ve been at the theatre oh, _half_ an hour ago,” he chuckles. “Come on. We’ll just explain to Liam and everyone else what happened,” he says with a final pat of affection to Lucy’s side.

“What? That she ‘ _escaped_ ’ again?” Harry grins, feeling almost bad for lying about such a sweet animal.

“No,” Louis furrows his brow at him, turning to head back to his house but not before sprinkling all his leftover dandelions over Harry’s head with a smirk. “That you’re completely obsessed with me of course.”

*

They practically run the entire way to the theatre to get there before showtime. Contrary to what Louis said, he doesn’t tell everyone why he’s running so late tonight or explain why he and Harry show up so out of breath _together_ , but Liam’s little smile to himself seeing the two of them rush in that way says he doesn’t necessarily mind the tardiness. Louis has to leave his side almost immediately to go get ready for the show, but Harry isn’t too bereft by his absence. He’s actually over the moon considering the bright sunny smile and tight hug he receives after wishing Louis good luck. Harry practically floats to his seat in the audience after that.

The Foolish Knight is just as hilarious and enjoyable as it was the first time Harry saw it, and it’s male lead is still just as enthralling to watch. Up on stage, Louis is completely in his element, demanding attention from everybody in the room like rows of sunflowers all turned towards the sun though Harry can’t really blame them because he’s just as hopeless.

After the show, Louis doesn’t look even slightly surprised to see Harry standing outside his dressing room, however Harry can tell he’s beyond flattered. Not only by Harry’s praise for his performance, but also the handful of wildflowers he produces from behind his back that he hurried to pick during intermission. 

“Wow,” he says taking time to smell almost every bloom in his hands and then playfully smirking up at Harry from behind those long eyelashes of his. “These are quite beautiful, but careful, Your Highness. Being seen in a place like this giving out gorgeous flowers to someone like me just might give some people a certain kind of _impression_ about you.”

“Oh? And what kind might that be?”

“Uh, the wrong kind for a prince and future king, I’m sure,” Louis snorts, his sudden amusement fading when Harry gently takes his hand in his.

“But, what if it’s not wrong? Then what?” he whispers, only noticing that Louis is hardly breathing anymore when he glances up at his eyes unblinking and his lips parted in astonishment just as they were earlier when he thought Harry was Mr. Daniels coming to complain about Lucy.

They haven’t been this close since the pond, and unfortunately, it doesn’t last very long before the door of the dressing room next to Louis’ flies open and all the people celebrating inside come spilling out to head to the tavern across the street. Louis instantly drops his gaze and takes a small step backward, discreetly slipping his hand out of Harry’s grip before anyone can notice them. Harry feels the loss greatly, but he doesn’t dwell on it for long, his stomach fluttering like the wings of butterflies when the corridor clears and Louis invites Harry to join them at the tavern with traces of the softest pink Harry’s ever seen gracing the apples of his cheeks.

“Um- It’s alright if you have other things to do,” Louis assures him. “Actually, I’m sure you have lots of other things to do. Royal things. _Prince_ things.”

As a royal prince, Harry has a literal never-ending list of things to do. And what’s more, is that Harry’s father would murder him if he knew where he is right now or that Harry’s heart beats faster from a single look from Louis than it ever has or probably ever will from anyone else. And yet, he doesn’t care; not what the King might think or anyone else for that matter. Falling in love in his business.

“Well, you’re in luck because as it turns out, I am officially off duty as of right this second! My royal night is all yours,” Harry says with an exaggerated bow that makes Louis snort again.

“Wow, thanks, Princey. You really shouldn’t have,” he rolls his eyes, however the fond glint behind them says he’s more than glad for the extra company.

 

It’s about a week later when Harry glances up from the alternating blueberry and strawberry heart he’s been constructing in the middle of his breakfast plate, only realizing after the fact that he’s been thinking of a certain someone and smiling the whole while, wondering if that person is currently smiling or thinking of him too… right in the middle of his father’s report about his brand new trade alliance with some other king already showing signs of weakness.

His smile shrinks considerably when the silence in the room lasts much longer than is required for the king to take a breath or a sip of his tea, meaning he probably just asked Harry a direct question. One that mostly definitely had nothing to do with Louis Tomlinson, his smile, his laugh, or any combination of the three.

“Hmm? S-Sorry,” Harry clears his throat and fixes his expression from dopey to serious, using his fork to dismantle his berry art once he notices the pair of light green eyes staring down the table at him. “Er- Yes, th-that’s terrible, father. _Horrible_ ,” he says in response to his father’s hardships; a greatly delayed reaction if his father’s unimpressed glaring is anything to go by. “That’s a truly disappointing outcome especially knowing how much you were looking forward to that alliance.”

The king’s frown only deepens so perhaps Harry’s response is not only late, but wrong entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time his attention has wandered off to someplace else. Or rather, some _one_ else.

“Thank you for your great concern, however if you had been listening you’d know I’ve already said we can probably patch things up by inviting King Edward to your birthday ball. What I asked you is if there are changes you’d like to make from last year’s ball seeing as this one will be happening in a _week_.”

“Oh.” Harry blinks at him because he didn’t hear _any_ of that. Not one word. “I mean, _oh_ , my birthday. Right. Of course.” He hadn’t even realized it was this close. Between all his responsibilities here at the palace and then sneaking out of it to see Louis every chance he gets, he hasn’t had time to think much about it.

“Well?” the king raises an eyebrow at him after a while. “Is there anything special you’d like? Or are we not celebrating your birthday this year since you seem to have forgotten it?”

“Er- Yes. I am. _We_ are,” Harry amends, thinking of how nice all his past balls have been but they’re never very exciting. The same royals and nobles come every year and they all eat the same food, drink the same wine, and try to force Harry to dance with their unmarried daughters to all the same songs. Just once he’d like to do something different and fun for his birthday and with people he actually wants to be around for an entire evening. The only issue is getting his father to agree to that. “Um, father? There is something special I’d like to do actually,” Harry begins carefully. “…It’s not a ball.”

His tone definitely catches the attention of the king who slowly puts down his tea to give Harry his full attention.

“Alright. Go on.”

And, well, here goes nothing.

“I’d like to see a play,” Harry says in one big breath as if that’ll soften the blow or suddenly make his father open to the idea that theatre isn’t a waste. It doesn’t work. In fact, he can see the exact moment his request registers in his father’s head and the vein over his left temple starts to pulse so Harry starts talking and fast. “Hear me out. I know how much you dislike it and I’m not asking you to go someplace you hate. I promise we don’t have to go to a theatre for my birthday. In fact, we don’t even have to leave the palace grounds because the theatre can come to _us_ ,” he smiles.

Nobody but Harry seems to see the sheer genius of this plan, however the king is neither scowling, yelling, or immediately vetoing such a proposal, so, he’ll take it.

“ _This_ is what you want?” he frowns. “To hire a bunch of… _actors_ to come and turn our home into a make-shift theatre and watch them run around it making complete fools of themselves?”

Harry wouldn’t quite put it that way. He’d more so call it, celebrating his birthday with his friends while making history by having The Rogue be the first acting company allowed inside the palace walls _ever_ , as well as giving Harry a perfectly viable excuse to see his new favorite person in the world without having to scale a ten-foot wall to do so. But, he nods his head anyway since his father has the basic gist of it.

“Fine then,” he relents after a very long, suspenseful pause that ends in a scoff. “It sounds like a dreadful way to celebrate, but so be it. It’s your day. I can simply invite King Edward to the palace to discuss alliances some other time.”

Harry is so thrilled with that he can hardly contain his excitement, full on beaming at the thought.  

“Thank you, father. Thank you so much, and, I know how incredibly busy you are so you won’t even have to do a thing. I will personally see to it that the company I chose receives an invitation to the palace,” he selflessly offers wearing a smile as bright as the sun itself. And if he knows Louis as well as he thinks, he’ll be wearing one too soon enough. Everybody will.

~*~

Louis can feel every muscle in his back and shoulders tensing as he raises his ax high above his head, swings it down hard over the middle of the wooden block he’s splitting…and misses completely making Louis huff in annoyance and his best friend snigger under his breath because this isn’t the first time Louis has chopped nothing but air for this new fence they’re building behind his house.

 “You could grab an ax too, you know,” Louis points out as he resets the piece of wood in front of him to try splitting it again. He glances over his shoulder at Liam not even breaking a sweat nailing together all the wood that’s already been cut.

“I’m afraid I’m much better at wielding a pen than an ax. I’m more help over here.”

He’s more lazy over there, but Louis doesn’t comment since Liam did volunteer to come help him finish constructing this thing to begin with. Thanks to him, it’s going much faster than it would have with Louis working by himself. At this rate, they can get Lucy in this thing and away from other people’s crops before sunset. _Nightfall_ , he mentally corrects himself after another hard swing of his ax produces the exact same result as last time.

He rolls his eyes when Liam stops what he’s doing and takes over with the ax to give Louis a break. “What’s the rush anyway? Lucy’s been escaping and terrorizing your neighbors for ages,” he says before swinging his ax and actually making contact with the wood. Thankfully, Liam has never been the type to gloat.

“Yeah, except the last time she escaped it turned out that she actually _didn’t_ so we were all freaking out for nothing, and instead of Mr. Daniels yelling about cabbages I got the bloody _prince_.”

“If memory serves you didn’t look too bothered by that and neither did he,” Liam smirks making Louis take back what he said about gloating.

“He shouldn’t have just come here like that. And you shouldn’t be encouraging him either.”

“Why not? You’ve never minded having admirers or new close friends before. And, you’re obviously just as taken with him as he is with you.”

Louis can feel his cheeks flushing at the accusation, but thankfully at the moment he has the heat from the sun to blame. He does like Harry. Way more than anybody like him with no money and no title should even dare, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t know how to make the feeling stop. Not that he has tried very hard to do so, however knowing the two of them is an impossible dream helps to dampen it. He and Harry are just as much a fantasy as the characters Louis plays on stage. Fun, thrilling, even dangerous at times, but it’s not reality.

“Harry isn’t taken with me,” Louis mutters only for Liam to face him with a flat expression. “Okay, maybe he is… kind of, but it’s not real. None of it actually means anything.” It can’t. Harry is the bloody prince for fuck’s sake. A prince who isn’t interested in women at all as far as Louis knows but who will most definitely still end up with one. Liam apparently isn’t discouraged by this fact nor does he acknowledge anything Louis just said.

“Right. That’s all great, however I didn’t quite hear the part about you not being taken with him,” he grins. “Maybe that’s why you kept the first rose he ever gave you and smile anytime he’s mentioned. Makes perfect sense.”

Louis narrows his eyes at his best friend who clearly did a lot more inside the house than grabbing a drink like he claimed if he saw the single red rose drying out on Louis’ pillow. Liam narrowly escapes retaliation when Louis’ attention is stolen by the sound of horse hooves around front and multiple people inside the house screaming his name.

He drops the hammer in his hand at the same time that Liam drops the ax and they both start running towards all the commotion. No one seems to be dying once they get there and Lucy is still tied to the old fence so she isn’t the problem, however there are several proud-looking stallions now standing in the dirt path leading to the house along with two beautiful carriages each bearing the royal crest.

“Louis! Louis, they’re dresses! And dressmakers! _Royal_ dressmakers!” one of his sisters shouts as another ambushes him at the door holding up a dress against her that probably costs more than everything they own, Lucy included.

“They say we can each choose as many as we want and we can even have them make something specially for us!”

“Er- Wow. That’s- That’s...,” Louis doesn’t even finish his sentence catching sight of his little brother also taking part in the fun as one of the seamstresses begins measuring him for a new jacket.  

Most of his siblings are so distracted by all the fine fabrics and laces being brought in from the carriages outside that they don’t even notice all the food piling up around their kitchen. Dozens of meats, cheeses, and pies they could never afford in a million years are deposited right on their table. There are even apples and thick bales of hay that could only be meant for Lucy.

“Do you think Harry sent all this?” the eldest of his sisters asks after she opens a big wooden box filled to the brim with teas and sugar straight from the palace.

“Who else?” Liam answers for him above all the noise and excitement, smirking as delicious-smelling cakes and desserts start making their way through the door. “If this is him _not_ taken with you, I’d sure hate to see fond.”

“We- We can’t accept this. It’s too much. It all has to go back,” Louis tries however no one is listening except a royal messenger who responds by placing two sealed letters right in Louis’ hand, one bearing the royal crest, the other an elaborately drawn _H_ that makes Louis’ heart start to race before he even opens it.

‘ _Dear Louis,_

_Thanks so much to you and your lovely family for having me over for tea last week. I wanted to return the favor. I know what you’re probably thinking, and you’re wrong. It’s not too much so stop trying to ruin people’s fun._

_Hope you’re smiling at least a little. Thanks again – H’_

Louis can’t help but do exactly what Harry wanted as he folds the letter down to a small square and tucks it in his pocket for safekeeping before opening the second, which doesn’t look very much like a letter at all.

“That’s an invitation to the palace!” one of his sisters shrieks in delight when she notices the way his brow furrows at it.

“What for?” Liam gasps, coming to stand behind Louis to read over his shoulder and gasping again when he sees their company’s name written on it.

“I think it’s for Harry’s birthday,” Louis smiles. “We’ve been requested to come perform.”

“F-For the _King_?” Liam’s eyes go wide and panicked as he skims over the invitation once more. “But- No company has ever been asked to go there ever,” he whispers. “The King hates plays and everything to do with them. Even people like us.”

He does, however his son does not. His son is one of the kindest and most thoughtful people Louis’ ever met. All the excitement and peals of happy laughter surrounding him are a testament to that. It’s no secret that the King isn’t very fond of the theatre, but this could be their chance to change that. At the very least, they’ll make Harry smile for his big day. Hopefully just as big and bright as everyone in Louis’ house right now.

 “Well, _playwright_ ,” he playfully nudges his best friend who still looks more apprehensive about making history than excited. “I guess you better come up with something extra good. We’ve only got a week to rehearse and perfect it before his birthday.”

“A _week_?!”

He might as well have said the show is tomorrow from the way Liam begins immediately pacing and talking out loud to himself about possible plots and themes while Louis quietly grins to himself, already counting down the days.

A week.


	3. Chapter 3

Patience has never been one of Harry’s strong suits. As a child, he was much too excitable to sit or stand still when he was expected to; always ready to move or sneak off to have his own adventure somewhere else. Not a whole lot has changed over the years because Harry is still as restless as ever waiting in the entrance hall of the palace. The only difference is tonight, he’s not trying to leave the palace or _go_ anywhere. He’s eager for someone to come in.

“You alright over there?”

Harry stops fidgeting with the ends of his jacket sleeves and forces his hands by his sides when he sees Niall’s amused grin next to him.

“Hmm? Er- Yep. I’m fine. Great,” Harry answers his best friend, catching the attention of the king standing at Harry’s _other_ side.

“I don’t see how. This is taking forever,” he mummers, clearly no more adept at being patient than Harry is, though he does his best to reassure the King all the same.

“They’ll be here soon. Any moment now,” Harry promises, trying to remind himself of that fact too as he adjusts the heavy golden crown on his head for the billionth time out of annoyance at having to wear it. He had just been so anxious to get away and see Louis again that in a stroke of sheer genius, he came up with the idea for Louis to come to him instead. Inviting The Rogue to the palace was a beyond brilliant plan. The only downside was not anticipating the even longer wait time now required before seeing Louis again while his company planned, scripted, and rehearsed their new play. _All week long_.

He’s just so ready for him to walk through those palace doors he can hardly stand it, and he soon gets his wish watching them finally swing open to let his special guests inside.

Each member of The Rogue bows as their company is announced. Harry spots Liam as well as Ana near the front of the group but feigns unfamiliarity in front of his father, however it’s the pair of sky blue eyes that lock with his once everyone straightens up that makes Harry’s heart skip a beat. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know those.

With formal introductions finished, Harry walks over to them immediately, shaking everyone’s hand in greeting when he’d much prefer hugs like whenever he visits everybody at the theatre. It’s nerve-wracking, mostly because he can’t really tell what his father is thinking while he’s being so tight-lipped, but everything seems to be going smoothly. Harry saves Louis for last, hardly able to contain his smile when The Rogue’s male lead approaches him with the corners of his lips already turned up into a smirk.

“Your Royal Highness,” he addresses him with yet another low bow, but Harry can practically hear the fond _Princey_ just bubbling at the surface. “It’s an honor.”

“The honor is mine. Thank you so much for coming.” Harry reaches out for a handshake once Louis is upright again, his stomach doing a full flip when their hands meet and Louis doesn’t immediately let go like he should. He’s been waiting to feel that energy, that spark between them, all week. All his life if he’s being honest.

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s your birthday,” he grins. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They aren’t the only two people in the room, but it sure feels like they are when Harry blushes and they both laugh to themselves. Just until Niall clears his throat to get their attention of course and Harry notices they have an audience. His father being one of the people watching them so intently.

“Uh- We’re _all_ very happy to have The Rogue here. Not just me,” Harry clarifies to everyone as he regretfully drops Louis’ hand, “But, especially me,” he says just loud enough for Louis to hear.

The Rogue and all its stagehands are taken to the ballroom to set their stage while Harry is left to wait with his best friend and his father just outside of it. As expected, the King looks as if it’s the last place on Earth he wants to be with his arms crossed and his expression sour. It’s the complete opposite from Niall’s demeanor who can’t wipe the dopey grin off his face and seems to be feeling just as euphoric about tonight as Harry currently is.

“Ana looks well,” Harry comments under his father’s muttering about how long this is all taking. Harry might as well have told Niall there’s an angel on the other side of the door from how big his smile grows.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he sighs. “Sadly, I haven’t seen her much this week. She’s been busy preparing for this dumb event some prince asked her and her company to perform at,” he rolls his eyes. “And, can you believe he paid them _three_ times their normal salary to do it? I mean, it’s almost like he actually _respects_ them or something.”

Harry can feel himself blushing as he bites down on a grin, happy to know his budget for his birthday ball is benefitting other people and doing more good this year than it ever has. “God, the nerve of that prince.”

“Right? How annoying,” Niall teases just as guard pokes his head out of the ballroom to announce that The Rogue is ready.  

*

Harry has seen The Foolish Knight more times than he can count. As one of The Blackwater’s most loyal patrons, he practically knows it line by line. He’s used to cackling until his stomach aches (at Louis’ scenes in particular) and cheering aloud with the crowd, however, tonight’s play is a little different. Harry figured Liam was coming up with something big from how hard he and everyone else has been working. The Foolish Knight was and still is a huge success, but it’s a comedy written for a certain kind of audience; definitely not one that includes a king who disapproves of pretty much everything. And as expected, the play The Rogue perform tonight doesn’t make Harry’s sides hurt from laughter or wish he were up on stage being the object of a clumsy knight’s affection, but it does grip him tightly around the heart and make emotion stir deep inside his chest because it’s not about amusement or cheap laughs. It’s a story of redemption.

Instead of a king’s knight who can’t even use a sword, Louis takes on the persona of a man disgraced after not being able to save his younger brother from drowning during a fishing trip, and made the hard decision to save himself instead. He blames himself and sinks even lower as he turns to alcohol for comfort, but it’s not until he accepts help from the church that he begins to forgive himself bit by bit and change. Harry is just as captivated watching Louis become a better man in front of his eyes as he was watching him stumble around in ill-fitting armor. He roots for Louis when his new path leads him to find love with Ana and he shares in their joy when they have a beautiful little boy who is given the same name as the brother Louis’ character lost all those years ago. Harry’s so invested in their family’s story that he smiles watching them all take a small boat out on a pond for an afternoon, never suspecting that tragedy would befall them. It’s terrible when their boat goes down, and at first, Harry is really angry at such a turn of events, but seeing Louis sacrifice his own life for the life of his wife and especially that of his son is an act of bravery that rights the previous wrong, gives Louis’ life even more meaning, and gives Harry chills that last long after the play ends.

Harry wipes at his eyes as he and Niall stand and applaud louder than ever before, noticing that they aren’t the only two who were moved by such an amazing performance from The Rogue because even Harry’s father, the king known for hating everything to do with theatre and pretty much every _one_ , is applauding too.

After the show, everyone begins migrating further into the palace to the dining hall to enjoy some wine and the giant birthday cake waiting there. Harry is sure it’s as delicious as always, however it’s hard to focus on things like cake and small talk or anything else for that matter knowing Louis is somewhere close by and will be here any moment. As he waits, he tries his best to seem interested in whatever Liam and Niall are joking about even though the majority of his attention is being held by the door and all the people matriculating through it who aren’t Louis.

Actors and stagehands alike appear as they finish deconstructing their make-shift stage and changing out of costumes, and thankfully, Louis is eventually one of them, making Harry’s smile return in full force.

“Er- That’s great. Hilarious. Really,” Harry tells his friends before handing off his uneaten slice of cake to whoever is next to him. “Be right back.” The last thing he hears before leaving is them snickering about how he’s definitely _not_ coming back.

He moves through the crowd of people mingling, grinning and nodding in thanks as he’s wished a happy birthday a dozen times until he’s standing in front of the most radiant person in the room.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry greets him with the most composure he can manage in front of so many people and with his stomach fluttering so much. 

“Your Highness,” Louis bows in return, though Harry doesn’t miss his amused smirk as he does so. His eyes are full of mirth when he straightens up which just makes it harder for Harry to keep a straight face.

They grin at each other for a long time. Neither of them saying anything until Harry’s excitement upon seeing him bubbles over.

“You were incredible, Lou. Amazing.” It’s an understatement, and yet Louis still blushes, with a humble glance down at his feet.

“Thank you, however I fear you’re much too kind. And possibly quite biased,” Louis jokes under his breath.

“It’s not bias if it’s the truth,” Harry chuckles when Louis finally meets his gaze again. “You gave the performance of a lifetime. You were unbelievable.”

Louis seems to have trouble brushing off that particular compliment, fondly rolling his eyes in defeat as his cheeks reclaim their previous shade of pink. “You really are too kind, but thank you. And, just thank you in general actually. I never got to for all this or for what you did before. I haven’t seen my siblings that excited in… God, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen them that excited. It was like a madhouse in there,” he laughs before realizing Harry isn’t talking, too busy watching Louis’ eyes crinkle up at the corners in a phenomenon that can only be described as breathtaking. “But- Enough about them. This is _your_ big day after all, and I hope it has been as special as you hoped.”

This has easily been the best birthday Harry’s ever had and it just keeps getting better the longer Louis smiles at him. He wants to tell Louis just that, but Harry stops himself from dong so when he notices his father quickly approaching them out of the corner of his eye.

“I- Er- Father. Hello,” Harry greets him at the same time that Louis bows with a respectful, ‘ _Your Majesty_ ’. “Uh, I’m sure you remember Mr. Tomlinson. I was just commending him on his incredible performance tonight.”

“Is that right?” The King says down his nose, taking close survey of Louis when he stands up straight, unsure of what to make of Louis and the breath he seems to be holding. Harry feels just as anxious as Louis looks wondering what on Earth made his father venture all the way over to them from wherever he had been hiding. Maybe he suspects something and Harry hasn’t been as discreet with his affections as he thought, but no matter the reason, it’s torture waiting for his father to say something else. _Anything_ else. “Well, coincidentally, I’ve come here to do the same. I’ve never been very fond of the theatre, but I think that tonight, commendation is required. And, I’ve spoken to your playwright as well. He says you both wrote the play together.”

Harry blinks in surprise at that, unable to stop himself grinning at The Rogue’s indisputably talented male lead who is apparently equally as talented as a writer. “You did?” Harry turns to him, now just as curious as his father. “That’s amazing.” What Harry means is he is amazing. He manages to keep that little declaration to himself, however he suspects Louis knows the truth from the way he humbly smiles down at his feet again. 

“I helped, but only a little. I assure you Liam is the true mastermind of our company. I’m just an actor.”

Harry doesn’t for one second doubt Liam’s brilliance, however he is more than suspicious of Louis’ modesty knowing how much he does every day for his family of seven on a salary not even half of what it should be and he does it all with a smile on his face.

The King doesn’t seem to buy his story either. “Well since _neither_ of you will take credit, I’ll just say that I enjoyed your company’s play tonight and look forward to maybe one day seeing another just like it the next time you visit the palace.”

 _Next time?_ Harry can hardly believe his ears listening to his father extend an invitation for The Rogue to come back when he didn’t even want them here to begin with, but he won’t argue. Harry latches onto his father’s random bout of generosity and uses it to soften the blow of the very bold request Harry makes just before the King leaves.

“Er- And, speaking of visiting the palace, _this_ visit has lasted most of the evening and it’s getting very late now,” Harry points out with a glance towards the windows and the moon sitting high in the sky. “I was thinking perhaps it might be best for The Rogue to just rest here for the night and then travel back to town in the morning when it’s safe. Since they are our special guests. Wouldn’t you say, father?”

For a moment, Harry’s father says nothing at all and time stands still. Harry hardly dares to blink in case his father’s good mood changes, releasing a sigh of relief and sporting a big grin when the King gives a single nod before heading off to his bedchamber.

*

No matter what Harry does he can’t seem to turn off his brain or make his feet stop walking him from his bed to his bedchamber door and then back again when he realizes how foolish it would be to venture past it. He already knows all the reasons why he shouldn’t. There are hundreds, and yet, all Harry can seem to focus on is the way his heart has been pitter-pattering since Louis agreed to stay.

He sits up in bed, still wearing his nightshirt from when he got up the last time before talking himself down, unsure of why Louis’ presence half-way across the palace has him so out of sorts. It’s not like Louis isn’t always on his mind anyway, before bed and even after. Harry thinks of him all the time; wishes he could be here or Harry could go to wherever he is. But, he guesses it’s a lot different just dreaming about them being in the same place and it becoming reality, because Harry’s so excited about it he can’t even sleep.  

There’s no point in him pacing around his bedchamber this way. All that is going to get him is a restless night and a late start tomorrow when he’s too tired to even get up. He should just go to Louis now and get it over with. Just check on him. Make sure he’s comfortable or doesn’t need anything. They have a palace full of servants for that very thing, but still. Harry would like to see that his guest is alright with his own eyes.

The guest wing of the palace won’t be too difficult to reach. Harry won’t even have to go near his father’s wing at all, meaning the only real obstacle he’ll encounter is the odd guard, two of which stand watch down the corridor from Harry’s room each night. They won’t ask where he’s going so late, but one of them might decide to follow him at a distance just to be safe which is honestly just as annoying.

Harry cracks open his door that creaks and groans in protest, blinking back in surprise when he sees the very person he was just sneaking out to go visit standing on the other side of it.

“Louis! But, wait- How did you get past-?” Harry sticks his head out of his bedchamber and peers down the corridor finding his two guards missing from their post. “What happened to the guards?”

“Oh, them. Right. I think they left to go investigate when they smelled something burning near the guest wing. Probably because I left something burning, however, there’s no real danger since I also put the fire out, so really, I’m just keeping them on their toes.”

Harry stifles his laugh in the sleeve of his robe, drawing Louis’ attention to the fact that he’s wearing one.

“Going somewhere, Princey?” he teases, his voice going as soft as the small sigh he releases while searching his eyes. “Harry.”

It’s the first time Louis has ever called him by his name and Harry is mesmerized watching the word leave Louis’ lips.

“Um, actually, I was on my way to come see you,” Harry admits with a nervous chuckle, clarifying his statement when Louis grins hearing that. “Er- I was just hoping to see how you were. To make sure you were comfortable.” That’s what Harry had told himself anyway, though he’s not so sure Louis is convinced of that.

 “And, is that all?” he asks, taking a brave step forward that has Harry’s heart thudding in his chest. “You weren’t hoping for anything else? You didn’t want something more?”

Harry doesn’t want to admit that he has dreamed of Louis showing up at his door like this more times than he can count so he respectfully shakes his head, and yet, Harry is hardly even breathing watching the distance between them become smaller and smaller until their knees bump and Harry can see every shade of blue staring back at him.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Louis laments through a smile. “Because I certainly do.”

All the preparation Harry gets before their lips meet is the feeling of a pair of sure hands gently braced at either side of his face and Louis’ breaths warming his skin. Being kissed by him is the sweetest burn Harry’s ever felt, the intensity of it igniting something deep within his chest as the feeling grows.

It feels as though he’s been pushed from the tallest peak in the world when Louis’ lips slow against his and he regretfully pulls back. His skin is the color of cherry blossoms and his lips as bright as two rose petals when he bites down on them.

“I should probably let you get some sleep. I, uh, just wanted to say goodnight and now I’ve done that, so.” He blinks up at Harry through those long eyelashes of his looking more hopeful than resigned to go back to bed. Harry understands completely because he feels just as adamant about Louis staying right here.

“So,” Harry echoes him, taking Louis’ hand in his to press a soft kiss to it. “Come say goodnight again. And again. And _again_ ,” he grins, dropping a kiss to Louis’ cheek and then the other, laughing when Louis tires of his game and pulls him into a proper kiss letting Harry’s door shut behind them.

~*~

Louis wakes slowly the next morning, nuzzling his face into a feathery-light pillow and a bed so soft it’s like floating on a cloud. Meaning he just woke up from the best sleep of his life, and also, the magnificent bed he’s lying in can’t be his own. It belongs to someone else.

He opens his eyes to sunlight streaming in through a wide window and a dimpled grin that has Louis smiling like a fool before he’s even said a word. Harry has looked at him like that since the night they met, doing more damage with a single glance than any one person should have the power to. Not that Louis minds having someone look at him as if he’s made of pure starlight. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that Harry does. Even after all this time.

“Hi,” Louis whispers, his stomach fluttering when Harry says it back just as quietly like he doesn’t want to disturb the still of morning blanketing them. They’re lying right next to each other. So close that Louis can see every stage of his beautiful smile taking shape when he laces their fingers together and yet his heart still skips a beat from the touch.

Eventually, Harry’s lips find his, the press of them creating a delightful little ache just beneath the skin from how long they spent doing this very thing last night. Just another reason out of a million why being here with Harry feels so amazing regardless of the million and one reasons it shouldn’t.

“How did you sleep?” Louis asks once they pull back.

“I think that’s supposed to be _my_ question,” Harry grins. “You’re the guest.”

“Well, I slept _great_ ,” Louis assures him “Your bed beats mine any day. I kind of want to lie in it forever, it’s so comfortable.” Harry laughs watching him steal more of the covers and burrow beneath them.

“You’d stay forever, huh?” Harry asks, his expression curious and oddly hopeful behind that big, bright smile of his. “Not _just_ for the bed I hope? Nothing else keeping you here? No _one_ else?” He kisses the back of Louis’ hand a couple of times, chuckling when Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes at him.

“Well, the pillows are amazing as well. Can’t forget those,” he teases before soothing his prince’s ego with a kiss. Louis only hypothetically wants this massive cloud bed if Harry’s going to hypothetically be in it too. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Their kiss becomes deeper as their laughs fade and their breaths become more heightened. One of Harry’s hands moves from where it was just cupping Louis’ jaw to wrap around his waist instead. Louis doesn’t protest being pulled closer to him. He practically encourages it, humming in approval and chasing the taste of morning on Harry’s tongue until Harry has to pull back just to catch his breath.

He looks like the happiest person Louis’ ever seen having just been kissed that way which is a tough title to earn considering he looked just as happy last night. And that was _before_ Louis showed up at his door.

“Did you have a good birthday, Haz?”

Harry frowns at his question like he’s insane right before his entire face lights up at the nickname Louis hadn’t even realized he used. It just came to him; easy as breathing. Like most things with Harry tend to, he supposes.

“Of course, Lou,” he answers after giving it a moment’s thought. “It was the best birthday I’ve ever had. Much better than any ball. And of course, you were there,” he says, looking at him in that special way again that warms Louis all over like sunshine. He can only hope Harry feels even a fraction of that when Louis looks at him too.

“You know, I was just thinking,” Louis smirks at him as he runs his fingers through Harry’s curls made wild from sleep… and also the two of them _not_ sleeping. “I know you enjoyed our play, but what a shame I didn’t get you a real gift.”

He and everyone else worked on that play day and night, but Louis can’t exactly take credit for something the company did together. He also can’t pretend his imagination hasn’t been running wild since the moment Harry invited him into his bedchamber so they could finally be alone.

“There isn’t anything else I could want,” Harry chuckles. “You were the very first thing I saw when I opened my eyes today. That’s gift enough.”

Louis finds himself speechless, biting at his grin as he fights the inevitable blush creeping up his cheeks. When he says things like that while looking the way he does, it’s hard for Louis to not want to give him the world. Or at least let him experience a small piece of it that only Louis can give him.

Harry sighs into the kiss Louis begins just like all the others before it, and Louis keeps it that way for a while. Just innocent slides of their lips and tongues until he allows his hand to venture past the hem of Harry’s nightshirt to the small swell between his legs he can feel growing larger the moment he touches it.

A small gasp breaks the silence in the room, and at first, Louis wonders if maybe he’s gone too far. But, Harry doesn’t ask Louis to stop touching him as Louis gently untucks him from the thin bottoms he slept in, his hips lifting in consent and his eyes fluttering closed.

What started out as a private sort of gift for Harry ends up being just as rewarding for Louis as he works his fist up and down Harry’s length to a symphony of whimpers and moans that cut out completely the moment Louis sinks his mouth down around him instead. Harry gasps, his eyes wider than Louis has ever seen them when he sits up to find Louis crouched between his legs with his lips spread wide.

“ _Shit._ What are you-? I- I’m not complaining like, _at all,_ ” he clarifies when Louis raises an impatient brow at him. “It’s just, you don’t have to.”

Louis appreciates that, but what he’d appreciate more is the joy of watching Harry come apart so he brushes off his kind offer, pushes Harry back against the pillows again, and resumes creating that symphony of obscene noises he hopes to never fucking forget.

It must be close to noon when Louis sighs from his side of the pillow he and Harry are now sharing. Those green eyes have been so many shades this morning. From light Spring when he first opened them to dark emerald as he watched Louis touch him like no one else before, but Louis thinks it’s the sparkling sea glass that they are now as he smiles that Louis loves the most.

“Will you go somewhere with me?” Harry asks. “There’s something I want to show you.”

They haven’t left this bed since they fell into it last night. They didn’t even make it to breakfast when it was announced, letting it and time itself pass them by to be together instead. It’s probably not the wisest choice sneaking around like this with the bloody _Prince_ of all people, but it’s not like he’s the Prince whenever they’re together; he’s just Harry. And, it’s not like Louis could ever deny him anything or turn down his request. He’d follow Harry anywhere.

“Alright,” Louis smiles back. “Let’s go. Show me.”

*

When Harry said there was someplace he wanted to show him, he thought maybe they’d venture to the throne room to have a peek around or somewhere just as magnificent. He was expecting gold and extravagant jewels like the ones Harry and his father wore last night, but instead Harry has given him lush green paths and mazes Louis wants nothing more than to spend the day getting lost in. Louis gets rows and rows of flowers. Hundreds of thousands of blossoms in every shade all surrounded by full fruit trees that have grown so tall over the years they seem to touch the sky. Everyone in the kingdom has heard a tale or two about the sheer beauty of the palace gardens, but there’s nothing quite like being here in the flesh. It’s like walking through paradise. A paradise only made more perfect when Harry slips his hand into his as they pass beneath a canopy of cherry trees.

Louis’ stomach does a full cartwheel as their fingers entwine, but his excitement about it is quickly doused when he glances around them and towards the palace at all the eyes that could be fixed on them right now.

“You don’t have to worry,” Harry chuckles as if he can hear how loudly Louis is praying for them to not be seen.

“ _Me_ , worried? I’m sorry, you have actually _met_ your father before, right?” Louis checks. “You know, tall, scary-looking fellow with your eyes and the giant crown?” If anybody should be worried it’s Harry. He’s the one who has to live with the man.

Harry snorts before cackling out loud and starling several birds from their branch perches. “He’s not _that_ bad.” Louis chooses to keep quiet, afraid one of the royal advisors or special guards might pop out from behind a tree any moment to catch him speaking ill of the King. “Also, no one can see us on this side of the big fountain. I should know since I’ve been hiding here since I was old enough to run from my tutors.” Louis grins imagining a young Harry running wild through the flowers and being a complete little menace.  “It was the perfect hiding spot when I was a child,” he continues. “Sometimes, it still is. I think so much less here. I breathe easier, and plus, my mother loved it as well,” he smiles. “It’s one of my favorite places in the entire world.”

Louis can see why. If Eden existed right outside his home whenever he needed an escape he’d never want to leave it either.

“So, Lady Caswell,” Louis smirks when they come to a much smaller fountain on the other side of the canopy. They each take a seat on the edge of it, their legs angled towards one another so they can watch all the colorful little fish swimming by. “It seems I’m not the only person who’s been given the royal garden tour as of late. It was amazing, I heard. _Quite_ romantic.”

Harry’s cheeks go bright red as he groans with the most devastated yet completely adorable grin Louis’ ever seen. “Heard about that, huh?” Harry asks right before Louis’ mumbled response of, ‘Mate, who _hasn’t_ heard about that.’ Several more birds decide to fly away from them as Harry groans again and Louis can’t stop himself from laughing which just makes Harry laugh right along with him. “Well, contrary to popular belief, it’s not what people think, she and I.”

Louis knows that. He even finding himself chuckling from time to time about all the gossip surrounding them because only he and a few others know the truth. Getting to tease Harry just makes that knowledge ever better. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, she _is_ lovely and very beautiful,” Harry continues. “Our families could be very beneficial to one another so they all want it. My father thinks she’d make a good queen someday and he’s probably right. Any man would be lucky to win her affections.” Hearing so many of her good qualities listed off like that sort of reminds Louis for the billionth time why Lady Caswell is so much better fitted for Harry than he will ever be. “But, that’s too bad,” Harry sighs, grinning as he takes Louis’ hand into his again, slotting their fingers together until they’re a perfect fit.

Louis blinks up from their entwined hands feeling a grin of his own taking over his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I already have the affections of somebody great. And whoever said I was looking for a _queen_ anyway?”

“So, who _are_ you looking for then, Your Highness?” He doesn’t even glance at the palace when Harry’s free palm comes up to rest against his cheek in a brief moment shielded from the rest of the world and that belongs to only them.

“No one,” Harry whispers against his lips. “I’ve already found him.”

Louis has never heard someone sound so sure about something in his entire life. It makes him feel significantly less crazy for knowing in his heart that Harry is the one for him too.

 

No matter how much Louis wishes they could, they can’t stay hidden away in the gardens forever. Eventually, the sun gets so high in the sky that he can no longer pretend it’s still morning, or that it isn’t way past time for The Rogue to pack up and go back home. They get a kind sendoff in front of the palace from Harry who takes the time to personally thank every member of the company for coming to his birthday.

Louis waits for his turn near the end of the line, completely amused watching Ana quickly bow before the Prince before heading straight over to Niall. Everyone laughs and cheers as they forgo a polite exchange of goodbyes for kisses instead. It’s not like the two of them being crazy about one another is anything new, however it is an extremely bold move to make in front of the King who silently watches on from the palace steps. The look on his face is more than slightly disapproving each time he so much as looks at Ana, an amazing actress who at this point, may very well become a _duchess_ someday. But, the King never dwells on them for long since he doesn’t really get much say in the matter besides his opinion. His attention is always more focused on Harry; his son who thankfully would never ever do something as foolhardy and reckless as to go and fall head over heels for an _actress_. It’s a good thing he only went and fell for an _actor_ instead.

“Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis tears his gaze away from his friends at the sound of his name, smiling way more than is probably necessary to say goodbye to someone he hardly knows. The issue there is that he does know Harry. Too fucking well, really. All the acting skills in the world couldn’t hide that.  

He bows as is custom, smirking in triumph after attempting a precarious-looking curtsey as well that makes Harry cackle out loud.

“You’re such an idiot,” he snorts, careful to keep his voice lower this time, but the sparkle in his eyes is fond as ever.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Louis tells the Prince, the pit of his stomach alive and fluttering when Harry reaches out for his hand but instead settles for the backs of their knuckles just barely brushing when thinks twice about it.

“I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Louis’ breath feels short as he’s made to smile and blush against his will. “I know,” he repeats. “Me too.”

For a moment, it feels like they are the only two people on the planet as Louis gets lost in the green of Harry’s eyes, imagining that they never left the gardens where Harry could kiss him in the open any time he wanted. But, that small moment of fantasy is all they’re allowed as a deep voice swiftly breaks the two of them out of it.

“Harry, I think we’ve kept our guests long enough, don’t you?” The King asks, though the way he says it isn’t really a question. He’s wearing a thin grin when he looks at Louis that doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way Harry’s always do.

“Er- Yes, father. I’m sure Mr. Tomlinson is quite looking forward to getting home to his family and his own bed. I’m sure sleeping in one so… unfamiliar must have been an adventure.”

Louis’ heart nearly stops for moment when he sees The King’s brow furrow in confusion. However, it’s hard for Louis not to play along when he spots Harry fighting an impish smirk. “Oh, on the contrary, Your Highness. I can’t wait to tell my siblings all about the beauty of this place, however, I found that the bed I slept in last night was most satisfactory. Large enough to accommodate _two_ men, I’d guess.”

The last part of Louis’ reply is mostly lost in the burly cough Harry makes into his sleeve to mask his laughter, though, honestly, that’s probably for the best.

They get to speak more freely once Louis is inside the carriage and Harry is standing outside of it, wistfully sighing as if he’s already missing him.

“Until next time?” he asks, instead of the goodbye Louis was dreading. “Hopefully sooner rather than later?”

“Until next time,” Louis echoes. “And definitely sooner”

Hopefully as soon as possible.

Louis finds he is the one sighing when their caravan finally pulls away from the palace, but he isn’t sad for long, forced into cracking a giant smile when Ana playfully kicks at his feet.

“Missed you two at breakfast,” she smirks. The fact that their absence didn’t go quite as unnoticed as he and Harry had hoped doesn’t bother Louis as much as missing out on his one chance at eating a lavish, royal meal. Incredible food is certainly something to be lamented, but honestly, he can’t really complain since getting to spend the entire morning with Harry was pretty incredible too. Just a different kind.

“Was breakfast amazing? I bet it was amazing,” he says, expecting Ana to brag about all the delicious food she ate and he didn’t, but all she does is shrug.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” she snorts. “Sadly, I didn’t make it to breakfast either. I was just going off what everyone else said.”

Louis laughs and kicks at _her_ feet this time, partly annoyed that he actually fell for that, but also, extremely delighted that Ana got to spend time with the person she cares most about. Same as him.

“I’m really happy for you, Ana. Both of you,” he adds, because Niall is his friend too. The two of them are the perfect match.

“And I for you,” Ana beams at him. “Harry really is crazy about you, Lou. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

All Louis can do is smile like an idiot out the carriage window because even as foolhardy and reckless as it may be, he’s crazy about Harry too.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry arrives late to breakfast a few days later practically floating into the room with a big yawn and a tired, dopey smile that brightens each time his mind replays the image of what has to be the best kiss of his life; slow and perfect and shared between Louis and himself just outside the palace walls a couple of minutes ago. He can still feel his lips tingling as if Louis’ are pressed right to them. 

The Rogue’s new play is just as much of a hit as The Foolish Knight was, meaning its success deserved a celebration just as grand. The party lasted the whole night just like before, however Harry was a bit wiser this time around. For one, he didn’t stalk the lead actor to his dressing room afterwards just to congratulate him. Louis was already there waiting for him, hardly letting Harry speak let alone breathe in a private celebration between the two of them. And this time, once they finally _left_ the dressing room to go join the others, Harry chose to forgo all the big toasting that left him feeling so drunk and hazy before. Excessive amounts of ale and wine weren’t necessary for him to have a blast last night. Not when being with Louis is already the best high in the world.

“Morning,” he chirps to the room before floating down in his seat. He begins buttering his bread, quietly humming and grinning to himself until his song is interrupted by yet another big yawn that makes his father’s pale green eyes narrow in his direction.

“Tired?”

Harry answers with an unbothered shrug at no one in particular. “Mmmm. Only a little. Just up reading too late again I suppose.”

It’s the same bold-faced lie and excuse he’s given since the very first time he and Niall busted him out of the palace when he was just fifteen. Thankfully, the two of them have never gotten caught, and by some miracle, the King has never realized that Harry hates everything to do with sitting still to read and has hated it since he was a child. His father doesn’t pick up on it now either even as he watches Harry yawn, and strangely enough, _grin_ through his meal.

“Well, if you’re tired you should rest after you eat,” he suggests before getting to the real reason for his concern. “Lord Caswell will be arriving later to discuss some business matters with the counsel and I think he’ll be bringing his daughter along,” he says with an air of enticement. “I figured you two wouldn’t mind entertaining one another while we talk since the two of you are so well acquainted at this point. And, I hear she’s most excited to see you again as I’m sure you are too.”

Harry hums through a mouthful of buttered bread in response. A vague and indistinguishable sort of sound that results in an equally indistinguishable look from the King. His hum could be good or it could be bad. Just like the way his father is currently watching him like a hawk from across the table. Either way, after the night Harry had, he’s in such a good mood that even a totally transparent, pre-planned afternoon of forced conversation and polite smiles with Lady Caswell can’t bring him down.

His head’s still in the clouds later that day, though what else could be expected in the palace gardens of all places on an afternoon as beautiful as this one where Lady Caswell keeps talking about how lovely the sky looks today, which is quite true. It’s breathtaking, however, all Harry sees when he looks up at it are two blue eyes shimmering like sunlight over the ocean. Louis is all Harry ever sees anymore when it comes to beautiful things. Somehow, they all lead back to him.

“Your Highness? Did you hear my question?”

“Hmm?” Harry turns to meet a pair of amber eyes fixed in slight concern for him since he obviously did _not_ hear her, however no less beautiful than the blue pair he was just imagining. “Er- Yes. _Great_. That’s a great suggestion. Another walk sounds…”

“Great?” she teases.

Harry drops her gaze for a moment, biting down on a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry.”

Lady Caswell doesn’t let her kind grin falter as she takes a deep breath as if bracing herself for something big. She repeats her question with confidence, though Harry can still pick out the slight edge of curiosity as well as defeat in her voice.

“I asked…who is she?” Harry’s heart stops. He’s hardly even breathing when he slowly lifts his head to meet her knowing gaze. “I only ask because you just look so pleased, Your Highness. So incredibly happy, but unfortunately, I don’t think it’s me or any of my boring suggestions that are the cause of it,” she jokes with her grin still in place, yet slightly diminished. A barely noticeable difference that weighs heavily in Harry’s chest regardless because he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“My Lady, please,” he begins, ready to beg her forgiveness but she just chuckles and waves it off.

“It’s alright. I suspected you were in love with someone weeks ago. You can’t stop smiling.” Harry turns his attention to the bright blue irises, hyacinth, and morning glories growing around them that his eyes pick out amongst a dozen other colors, making the same starry-eyed, beautiful person crop up in Harry’s mind. “You’re doing it again,” Lady Caswell chuckles as Harry tries to reign in the giant smile spreading across his face of its own volition. “God, it’s like she’s right here in front of you. She must be the most beautiful, wonderful-”

“He,” Harry softly corrects her, only making him smile harder. “ _He_ is the most beautiful. And smart. And _funny_. He’s just so… so…” He doesn’t even have the words to describe how incredible Louis is. How much Harry can’t even believe Louis loves him back. “Ugh, God, I’m so sorry again!” he laughs when Lady Caswell does. “I’m ridiculous. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me all this time.”

“Well, I haven’t minded at all! It’s been such an honor getting to know you,” she assures him, reaching over to give his arm a squeeze. “And it’s so good to see you smile, Your Highness. I mean _really_ smile. Even if I’m not the reason why.” Her last sentence stings almost as much as last time, but she doesn’t let him feel sorry for her for very long before she’s scooting forward on her bench. “I’m sure you rarely get to gush about him. Do you want to for a while?” she beams. “I mean, I know everyone thinks I’m a big gossip, and I am, but, this secret is one that I’ll keep if you ask me to. A secret between friends.”

The only person he really ever gets to talk about any of this with is Niall. But, even then it’s hard telling him how amazing Louis is when he’s going on about Ana at the exact same time because he’s in love too. Lady Caswell was brought here with the understanding that she’d be his bride someday not his confidant, however it’s difficult to not want to take her up on the offer.

“You really don’t mind?” he checks, his desire to tell her everything already bubbling up and threatening to spill over.

“Oh, not at all,” she smiles. “Do your worst.”

 

After telling Lady Caswell every single wonderful thing about Louis, simply hearing about him isn’t enough. Like most people of her standing, she’d never been to the theatre. She’s never seen how magical it is to watch actors and actresses transform into characters before her eyes. She has no idea that Louis is the most talented and magical of them all.

For the first time ever, Harry gets to feel what it’s like to be Niall and sneak someone out of the palace. They leave right after sunset under the ruse of wanting to take a starlit stroll through the gardens and make it to The Blackwater Theatre just as act one is starting.

Lady Caswell seems as awestruck with everything she sees as Harry was on his first visit to The Blackwater. He grins watching her take in the performance going on up on the stage, his chest practically bursting with pride when she spots Louis and is stunned speechless. Well, almost.

“ _That’s_ him?” she whispers, careful not to disturb the emotional scene taking place where Louis realizes his brother isn’t going to make it despite his best efforts to save him and himself.

 “That’s him,” Harry confirms watching Louis wipe away genuine tears from his eyes to make every heart in the audience ache along with his.

“My God, he’s brilliant,” she gushes.

All Harry can do is give a modest shrug (although he completely agrees) and try not to smile too brightly when Louis notices him in the crowd and breaks character to flash him a private little grin that is missed by everyone else.

The play ends once all three acts have finished and the company has taken their bows. Lady Caswell turns to him and looks almost sad after the stage empties, however, her spirits are instantly lifted when Harry takes her by the hand and starts walking them in the same direction.

“Are you sure we’re even allowed to be back here?” she snorts as they weave through all the people milling about backstage and stopping to say quick hellos. “They…aren’t bowing. Or addressing you as Your Highness,” she notes with a furrowed brow until a loud voice from behind them shouts his name. Well, it’s the name that best friend has been using ever since they were kids anyway.

“HAZ! I didn’t know you were coming here tonight too!”

Harry doesn’t even get a chance to tell Niall that it was kind of a spur of the moment venture that brought him into town before he’s engulfed in a tight hug that makes Harry cackle until he’s finally released. “You didn’t have to squeeze me to death,” he teases. “I am the Prince, you know. A national treasure and _highly_ valuable to the kingdom.”

“Highly annoying more like,” he scoffs, only just now noticing the woman standing next to him and watching their exchange with amusement.

“Uh- Forgive my manners. Niall, allow me to introduce my friend Lady Caswell. Lady Caswell, this is Niall or Duke Horan if you ever want to make him do _that_.” Harry gestures at the slight frown on his best friend’s face, a deep crease quickly forming between his eyebrows like he just missed the punchline of a joke when he sees Harry and Lady Caswell share a laugh.

His expression is less bewildered when Ana spots him, coming over to slip her hand into his and press a kiss to his jaw, however he’s still watching Lady Caswell with suspicion.

“Hello, my love. And Harry,” Ana greets them, her kind smile now landing on the stranger in their circle too. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Lady Caswell. Harry’s _friend_ ,” Niall answers her with a significant raise of his eyebrows that makes Ana’s rise in scandal too so Harry quickly intervenes.

“ _Yes_ , this is my _friend_ , Lady Caswell,” Harry laughs. “And I brought her here to meet Louis.”

Niall’s eyes widen like Harry just sprouted an extra head. “Um, _why_?” he mutters under his breath.

“Because if Harry’s this in love with him and smiles just mentioning his name then he must be worth meeting, right?”

Niall and Ana both blink at her, their protective expressions melting to those of great surprise of course, but also approval.

“So, she knows?” Ana grins, her question getting interrupted when the other half of their group, Louis and Liam, join them.

“Knows what?” Louis frowns as he greets Harry in the same way Ana just did with Niall. “And who’s she?”

Harry fondly rolls his eyes, laughing as he takes a moment to kiss Louis properly before gearing up to make introductions all over again. “Everybody, this is Lady Caswell, my good _friend_ who, just like you, knows everything, including the fact that Louis is _not_ just my friend but the love of my life,” he explains, grinning when the panicked look in Louis’ eyes turns to one of relief and then immense pride for him that Harry can feel warming his heart. “Lady Caswell, this is everybody!”

She gives a quick wave, grinning at Niall, Ana, and Louis who she’s so impressed with she excitedly elbows Harry in the arm to let him know. And then there’s Liam who hasn’t said a word since he noticed Lady Caswell standing amongst them and blushes furiously when she extends a hand towards him.

“Forgive me, sir,” she says with her eyes brighter than Harry’s ever seen them. “I fear I’ve missed your name.”

Liam blinks down at her like she’s made of starlight or something else just as radiant with her golden hair all pinned up and a smile just as shy as his. He doesn’t answer her, obviously preoccupied just shaking her hand and then forgetting to let go of it until Ana nudges him in the arm.

“Er- Liam,” he blurts out going several shades redder as a result, but the color in his cheeks fades the longer Lady Caswell smiles at him. “I’m Liam.”

*

Harry didn’t mean to stay out half the night again but he definitely came close to it. Not that it was his and Louis’ fault. This time, the hours flew by because of another pair. A surprising pair; Liam, the beyond brilliant playwright who mysteriously lost his words for a portion of the night, and Lady Caswell, the perfect blend of excitable energy and liveliness to make up for the both of them until Liam felt more confident, and even then she was so calm and attentive while he spoke. Almost as if she was scared to blink or else miss something he said just like Liam couldn’t take his eyes off her. Harry would’ve never thought in a million years that those two would get along so well with how different they seem, but, he’s so happy that they did.

His friends and the night before is still on Harry’s mind the next day as he sits through meeting after meeting with his father and his advisors, though he does manage to sneak in a few thoughts of Louis as well. As if Harry isn’t always daydreaming of him anyway. He is just replaying the quick trip they made to Louis’ house when they realized Lady Caswell and Liam weren’t about to say goodnight any time soon. They left the theatre under the ruse of a late-night snack, but once they got there all of Louis’ siblings were asleep and it seemed like a much better idea to just skip the food entirely. Harry can still feel the shake in Louis’ legs and taste his skin on the back of his tongue like he’s still sucking him off. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear the way he whined and moaned into his pillow to keep from waking everybody up.

The sound of a heavy wooden box dropping onto the table right in front of Harry forces his eyes open and yanks him out of the good memory. Harry frowns down at the wooden box which is more like a small trunk now that Harry is paying more attention, and then blinks up at the King, the only person left in the room besides himself meaning the meeting must have ended a while ago without him even noticing.

“Well, go on. Open it,” he says as he reclaims his seat at the head of the meeting table. “Decide which one you like best.”

It’s a peculiar little box that only makes Harry’s frown deepen since his father seems so keen for him to see whatever is inside. “They’re all beautiful, but my birthday is already gone,” Harry points out after he opens the box to reveal half a dozen jewel encrusted rings similar to the few he’s wearing right now except for their size. “They’re also a bit small for me, I’m afraid.” They’re much too small, but he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Well, I should think so since they’re not _for_ you,” the King answers from the across the table. “They’re meant for Lady Caswell. One of them will be anyway as soon as you choose it.”

The words and implication behind them make Harry’s stomach churn but he doesn’t let it show on his face as he takes one final look at the expensive jewels before letting the top of the box softly fall closed.

“I appreciate your help, father. Really, but I don’t need it. I can pick out my own rings.” Not that he’s ever going to. He’s not giving any ring to Lady Caswell or any of the other women that have been paraded before him. Especially not one meant to mark their engagement, which also _isn’t_ happening. “I will do it in my own time. When I’m ready,” he lies, but it doesn’t go as well as he had hoped, blinking back in surprise when his father growls in frustration and slams his fist against the table to silence the room. Maybe even the entire palace from how loud it was.

“It wasn’t a request,” he hisses at Harry. “We’ve been playing this game for far too long. You asked for time to get to know her and all you’ve had is time. You’re wasting it every time she comes here. Even last night when you two crept out of this palace together to go God knows where and thought I wouldn’t notice.”

Harry drops his father’s gaze to glare at the door behind him, wondering which guard or advisor outside of it tipped him off.

“This has been the longest courtship in the history of courtship and it ends today. Either you’re marrying the girl or you’re not, and _I_ say you are, now, choose a ring,” he growls from behind cold eyes.

It’s so quiet that Harry can hear thunder rolling in the distance and soft rain begin to fall. This stare-off between them is the longest that Harry can ever remember them having. Even worse than the time he stole a dagger from the weapons room because he was too young to have one of his own, or when he looked his father right in the eye a few years later and told him he didn’t want to be king some day. Both instances were awful and his father has always had all the power so Harry had no other choice but to concede. The only difference here is that this time, Harry refuses to be intimidated. He can’t allow himself to back down because giving in means giving up on the person he cares for most in this world and Louis is non-negotiable.

Harry stands up from the table, shocking even himself when he makes his position on the matter crystal clear by pushing the box to slide down the table and come to a stop right in front of his father.

“You will never be able to be with him,” he threatens lowly just before Harry leaves the room, turning his stomach to lead. “This thing between you will end. Lady Caswell will be your queen and you’ll have heirs because that’s how the world works. That’s how _our_ world works.”

Harry freezes at that. Almost turns around to ask exactly how long it took his father realize who he smiles about at breakfast each morning and dreams about sharing his life with each night, but he doesn’t, because it doesn’t matter. None of what was just said matters as Harry opens the door and swiftly closes it behind him drowning out the sound of the King’s booming, angry voice and the thunder now rumbling overhead.


	5. Chapter 5

~*~

Sunday is usually Louis’ only day of the week where he doesn’t have to come to the theatre, and yet, he still finds himself there each week without all the crowds and the applause and most members of his company because they’ve all learned to take a break whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s a skill Louis has never cared much for due to his love of the stage but he’s not alone in that because his best friend is usually sat right next to him in his dressing room on Sundays with his brow furrowed in concentration, feverishly writing out plans for the company’s next play as he lets Louis in on all his genius ideas.

Today isn’t much different except, oddly enough, Liam Payne hasn’t written a single word. He hasn’t picked up a pen to scribble notes or even muttered unintelligibly to himself as he works through plot holes, and yet Louis is still wildly entertained because the man hasn’t stopped smiling, blushing, or blurting out every thought in his brain ever since Louis ever-so-casually mentioned Lady Caswell and how _taken_ they seemed with one another last night. Clearly, a huge mistake on Louis’ part if he ever hoped to _leave_ the theatre. Between Liam’s gushing and the way it’s pouring rain outside, he may very well be stuck here for two or three centuries. It’s a good thing his best friend is absolutely adorable being as besotted as he clearly is.

“She is so… _remarkable_ ,” he grins, somehow still able to come up with fresh adjectives to describe Lady Caswell after already going through a list a mile long. “I still don’t understand why she would choose to spend her whole night talking with me of all people,” he laughs to himself, worrying his lip between his teeth like it’s some big riddle when really, it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I have no idea, Liam. Maybe because you’re charming, kind, brilliant, and _vaguely_ attractive in the right light? Maybe the poor girl isn’t well,” Louis teases earning himself a balled-up page of rejected script to the head.

“ _Shut it_ ,” his best friend laughs. “You know what I meant.”

And, no, Louis really doesn’t. Liam likes her and she likes him back. That’s really all there is to it, and yet Louis can’t figure out why his best friend still looks so hesitant to believe it.

“It just doesn’t make much sense, I guess,” he frowns. “I mean, I don’t own any lands and properties like Niall or palaces and entire kingdoms like Harry. I can’t offer her that. I can’t offer her anything really.”

Besides Lady Caswell, what’s pretty remarkable is how Louis can’t help but want to hug his adorably oblivious friend round the neck as well as strangle him because he’s worrying so much about something he doesn’t even need to. Though, this is probably how Liam felt listening to Louis when he had some of those very same fears about falling for a prince.

“Well, mate, luckily, I don’t think she’s after any of those things,” Louis smiles, giving Liam’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “She just wants _you_.” That only makes Liam roll his eyes and fight the enormous grin tugging at his lips. “And, so what if it doesn’t make sense? Who cares, if you’re both happy?” In fact, Louis is learning more and more each day that sometimes the very best things make no sense at all. If they did, he and Harry would never have found each other. Neither would Ana and Niall.

“So,” Liam begins with a deep breath. “You really think this is a good thing? I should ask to see her again?”

“What? _God no_. Why on Earth would you do a thing like that?” Louis grimaces before cracking a giant smile to put his best friend out of his misery. “ _Of course_ you should, Li,” he says, squeezing his friend’s hand tight in his. “You’d be crazy not to.”

The rain has slowed by the time Liam has gotten up the courage to not only write to Lady Caswell and ask if they can meet, but give it to a messenger to be delivered to her. He looks like he might be sick afterwards from nerves until Louis kindly reminds him that he’ll be receiving a letter soon too and better yet, seeing her face-to-face again because there’s no way she’d say no.

Liam heads to his office to work after thanking Louis about a hundred times for listening. Louis waves it off, chalking it all up as payback for all the times Liam has been there for him when it comes to the person he cares for too.

Louis realizes he should be going too now that the storm is more of a fine drizzle if anything. He’s just grabbing his boots and jacket to head back home when he hears a frantic knocking at his door that makes him roll his eyes. “She’s going to write you back, you lovesick idiot! At least give it a bloody day!” Louis snorts as he crosses the room, but when he opens the door it isn’t Liam who surges forward into his arms. He can’t really see the face of the person huddled into him, but he’d know those dark curls and broad shoulders anywhere.

“ _Harry_?”

He smells like rain, soaking wet and cold from the storm so Louis holds him close but even with the heat he can’t stop shaking.

“Oh my God. You’re freezing,” Louis says as he pulls Harry further into the room, still trying to figure out how the hell he got here. “What on Earth were you thinking walking around in this? You’re going to be sick,” he scolds, peeling off his wet coat but freezes himself when he looks Harry in the eyes and finds them red-rimmed.

He hasn’t said a word yet which is almost scarier than seeing him like this with no clue how he got this way. “Harry, what happened? Are you hurt? Did something- someone-?” He can’t even finish the sentence. Just the thought of Harry being hurt is enough to hurt Louis.

Louis searches the pair of bleary green eyes in front of him for answers, his own blue ones fluttering closed when Harry’s hand comes up to trace the soft lines of his face.

“I’m alright, love. I promise,” he says after a silence that feels like an eternity. The tight feeling in Louis chest loosens, but not by much. He resumes getting Harry out of his wet coat, his stomach sinking when Harry speaks up again.

“It was my father. He- He knows about us and he still wants me to marry Lady Caswell. We had this big, stupid argument about it but he just won’t listen. And I know I shouldn’t have left like that because of the storm, and I know that I should’ve waited.” He lifts Louis’ chin to look right into his eyes and it seems all traces of the sadness from before have evaporated. “I know all that, but- I just had to see you, Louis. All I wanted was to be here and now that I am, I’m fine. More than.”

That was a much bigger confession than Louis was expecting, and at first, all he could focus on was the part about the two of them being found out and him potentially losing the love of his life to Lady Caswell anyway despite everything. His brain just kept repeating it over and over. But then, bit by bit, the rest of what Harry said began to sink in and he realized that Harry isn’t _with_ Lady Caswell right now or anybody else. He isn’t holding her or smiling while caressing her cheek because Harry is here with him instead. He chose to come here out of all the places in the world, and that’s all Louis needs to know because he’d do the same.

When Harry leans down to kiss him like it’s all he’s been waiting to do, Louis sighs into it. Just grateful that Harry is alright and that he made it here safely, however, the familiar slide of their lips doesn’t quite comfort Louis the way that it should because things still feel off. Mostly how cold Louis is now thanks to the rain seeping through his clothes from Harry’s.

“ _Please_ _don’t_.” Harry clings to him when he gently pulls back from their kiss, his grip around Louis’ shirt desperate like he’s moving more than three feet away.

“You’re still drenched,” Louis chuckles, running his fingers through Harry’s storm-blown curls and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “And freezing,” he adds, rubbing both of Harry’s hands between his to warm them so they feel less like blocks of ice. He quickly realizes that Harry’s never going to get warm this way and neither will he so he tries a different approach. “Alright. Boots and everything else off. In bed, you get,” he orders, watching Harry smirk as he undresses in the middle of Louis’ dressing room.

“ _Yes, sir_.” Louis fondly rolls his eyes, remembering the night they met when Harry was naked and dripping wet just like this after their dip in the pond. “What?” he grins when he notices Louis watching him climb into his bed.

Louis doesn’t tell him he looks beautiful always but especially like this, just like he didn’t tell him that night at the pond. He just grins and shrugs his shoulders instead as he removes his own wet layers. “Nothing. Your giant icy feet are taking over my side. Slide over.”

Harry laughs, but does as he’s told, holding back the covers for Louis to climb in next to him. Louis’ dressing room bed is a lot smaller than the massive one they shared at the palace, but they make it work after a few seconds of maneuvering Harry to curl into him. His skin starts to warm almost immediately, like Louis’ is pumping heat straight through him to bring back the color in his fingertips and cheeks.

“Better?” Louis whispers when Harry’s grip loosens around his waist and he breathes a warm sigh over his chest.

He nods in answer, his damp hair tickling Louis’ skin. “I told you already, love. I’m perfect if I’m with you. As long as we’re together.”

Louis’ heartbeat skips the moment Harry presses a soft kiss over it. Hearing him talk like that; about _them_ always makes Louis happier than he ever thought possible. And, he’s so glad that when Harry needed someone to be there for him he knew exactly where to go. But, it’s the reason that drove Harry here into his arms tonight in the first place that has Louis concerned.

“Was it bad? The fight with your father?” It had to have been for Harry to run without even thinking twice.

He nods again after a long pause but doesn’t say much, meaning whatever his father said or did to upset him must have cut pretty deeply. Louis’ arms protectively tighten around him just knowing the sensitive subject of their argument.

“Do you want to tell me about it? Exactly what happened? I’ll just listen,” he promises, breathing his own sigh of relief when Harry finally starts talking.

It doesn’t take him very long to explain everything, for which Louis is thankful because his stomach turns the whole time just hearing about it. He’s glad Harry stood up for himself. And at least he got himself someplace he feels comfortable and safe and without someone trying to force him into something he doesn’t want. Even if it was in the middle of a storm.

“I’m glad I found you here,” Harry says after he’s done telling Louis about his evening. “It’s Sunday, so I went to your house first. Your poor family probably thought I was insane showing up out of nowhere like that.”

If Louis knows his sisters and brother, they weren’t bothered in the slightest. “Well, it’s not the first time a prince has randomly showed up at our door,” Louis smiles. “I’m sure they were just as excited to see you tonight as they always are. Thunder, lightning, and all.”

That storm had nearly chilled Harry to the bone but he’s nice and warm now. So warm in fact that Louis is starting to feel hot too just from being so near him. Louis removes one arm from around him and then the other, chuckling when Harry notices the change in weight and immediately reaches out for Louis to keep him close.

“I’m not actually going anywhere. You can let go, you know,” he teases Harry, his smile fading to a grin and then to nothing at all once he tries to meet Harry’s gaze and sees how fearful it is that maybe that isn’t completely true. He had that same look while he recounted the awful things his father said about them. It’s true that they’ll never get married. And no, Louis can’t exactly give Harry an heir or secure his family’s place on the throne, but that doesn’t mean they can’t love each other. In Louis’ opinion, they’ve been doing a hell of a job of that already and they don’t have _any_ of those things.

“Haz, you do know that, right? That I’m not going anywhere? That I’m right here?”

The words seem to make sense to Harry, but his eyes are still apprehensive, doubtful as if Louis could disappear or be snatched from his arms at any moment.

“Love, I’m right here.”

He repeats it again and again until just saying it isn’t enough anymore. Louis cuddles into him, pulling Harry closer to bring their lips together in a kiss. Softly at first; just enough to prove that he’s real and will always be there for Harry before Harry believes it and starts to kiss him back with that same conviction.

Louis was over warm before but his skin feels like it’s burning up now with Harry pressed so tightly against him. The sensation only gets stronger with each slide of their lips, like bright sparks flying between two stones until they’re both breathing hard into each other’s mouths, quietly fanning the flames. Louis’ back hits the mattress followed by both of Harry’s hands bracketed at either side of his head. Their lips never part and Louis moans into it, feeling Harry hardening up between them the deeper and more desperate their kiss becomes. Louis’ breath catches at the gentle roll of Harry’s hips against his, the instinctual move igniting Louis’ stomach like never before as Harry repeats it with even more intent.

The two of them have been together in this bed more times than Louis can count, but they’ve always touch each other in ways that seem so innocent now that Harry is imitating fucking him into the mattress. It feels so good tasting Harry’s tongue while his hips raise to meet his on every thrust, but it’s not enough. And although Harry hasn’t said anything, he must be feeling the same kind of frustration because he soon stops his movements, just long enough to spare a pained glance at himself hard and flushed between them before fixing Louis with a tortured expression that he can relate to all too well.

“What do you want? Tell me,” he pants out, watching Harry bite down on his bottom lip rather than look down between them again at how they’re positioned just right for Harry to slide into him. He shakes his head though, like doing so will make the thought of doing so less intoxicating.

“I- I can’t. I couldn’t ask that of you,” Harry claims, but from the way he’s shaking from trying to reign himself in it’s obvious that the question is already at the tip of his tongue.

Making love to Harry is what Louis dreams about at night. It’s what he’s thinking about whenever he flubs his lines during rehearsals or puts one too many scoops of sugar into his tea. Even at times when he’s doing nothing at all. Just grinning to himself like a complete fool until someone taps his shoulder or calls his name to make fun of how pink his cheeks are. And, if it’s finally going to happen for them –if he’s going to get his wish then he needs Harry to know he isn’t asking for something Louis hasn’t wanted to ask for all along.

He sits up in the bed, making Harry’s expression turn even more desperate thinking Louis is leaving him, but he isn’t going far. Just across the room to retrieve the oil he sometimes uses to help remove his stage makeup when it has been put on too thick. It has other uses as well. Mostly slicking up his own fingers so they can slip inside him without fuss while he pretends it’s Harry instead. But hopefully, after tonight, he won’t have to pretend anymore. 

Harry’s eyes fall on the tiny bottle hidden in the palm of his hand as he approaches the bed again. His gaze is curious when Louis lies back down and takes a deep breath before opening it. A few thick drops trickle down Louis’ longest fingers, wetting them just enough that they easily slip inside of himself just like all the times he has practiced it before.

In his fantasy, Harry is always there with him, but it’s so much better having him here in the flesh, watching every move he makes in amazement. Louis reaches for the oil a second time to repeat the action but pours it over Harry’s fingers instead, feeling excitement dance up and down his spine when Harry gets the message without him having to say a word and fills Louis up better than he could ever manage on his own. He’s a very fast learner, but then again, he always has been. He had never kissed another man or touched one before Louis but he caught on to that rather quickly, and fingering Louis open is no exception. Louis’ shaking in minutes, unable to keep still or catch his breath as he begs for Harry to finally make love to him.  

His request has Harry biting at his lip again for control but only until Louis presses up from the bed to kiss him and whispers it against his mouth. Harry nods in answer, gasping when Louis opens the oil once more and spreads it over him from base to tip.

They end up in the same perfect position as before with Harry hard and poised right at his entrance, however this time when he presses his hips forward he pushes right inside of the tight space waiting for him.

Louis is grateful for it being Sunday and the theatre being essentially empty when they both cry out. He can feel Harry’s shaky breaths against his neck as they come skin to skin, feeling his breathing become more measured with time as he gets used to the feeling of being inside of someone. When he’s ready, a kiss just below Louis’ jaw makes his stomach flip and a soft nip at his ear has him widening his legs and digging his nails into the dimples below Harry’s spine to feel the next roll of his hips.

Harry paces himself as he moves, his brow furrowed slightly as he finds a rhythm that allows him some control while he fucks Louis at a steady pace. Each thrust leaves Louis a little breathless and has him clinging that much tighter to him. Right now, they are probably as close to one another as physically possible and yet Louis still tries to get closer to him. To taste him more. Feel him better.

“I love you,” Harry whispers. The admission comes out of nowhere to make Louis’ heart race even faster than before and his eyes flutter closed. “I love you so much.” He says it again, but this time there’s nowhere to hide as their gazes lock and Louis sees every ounce of that love shining down on him through shades of jade and dark emerald.

“And, I love you. Always,” he proudly answers back because the King may look at them and see something he doesn’t fully understand, but that’s alright. It doesn’t have to make sense to him, and they don’t need anyone else to get it because their love doesn’t belong to anybody but them.

When they come, Louis’ whole body feels numb from the high but he still registers the steady pounding of their hearts and the tender slide of their lips; tingly and sore from hardly any rest but it’s a good sort of ache to have knowing it’s the result of something amazing they did together.

It’s so late once they settle down in bed again that Louis has lost track of time and given up all pretenses of going home tonight. The moon and all its light are mostly hidden behind a thin layer of clouds lingering after the rain, but Louis is still able to make out the loving smile aimed right at him from across his pillow. Louis smiles back, stomach swooping when Harry takes his right hand in his and looks at Louis like he’s the sun. Carefully, he removes the most beautiful of the jeweled rings usually adorning his fingers and slips it onto Louis’ finger instead. It’s stunning and sparkles even in the low light, but Louis’ attention is drawn more towards the incredible man who just gave it to him.

“ _Wow_. Trying to bribe me with royal jewels now as well as hay bales, cakes, and fancy teas with sugar?”

Harry cracks a wide grin at his joke. “First of all, that hay was for _Lucy_ ,” he clarifies, snorting a laugh when Louis mumbles under his breath about how he probably shouldn’t have eaten so much of it then. “And _second_ , this isn’t some bribe, love,” he continues after pressing a kiss to the ring he just placed on Louis’ finger like some solemn vow. “Not even close.”

It certainly doesn’t feel like one or just another show of Harry’s affection. If anything, it feels like a promise.

“My father may have his opinions about us and every one of them is wrong, but they also don’t matter, Lou. Because _you_ are the only person in this world I want to give a ring to, and _you_ are the one I choose.”

It’s definitely not a bribe. It’s not quite a proposal either, but it certainly makes Louis’ heart swell like one. It’s so full of love that he fears it might burst when he stops smiling long enough to give his answer to the person he chooses for life too. No matter what.

~*~

All Harry needs when he wakes the next morning is the weight of someone sleeping in his arms, their deep breaths tickling the fine hairs on his chest, and the sweet scent of honey-colored hair just beneath his nose to know that everything is right with the world again. The argument with his father from the night before is just a memory along with all the hopelessness he had felt when he left, but now, none of that can touch him. How can anything be bad ever again with Louis now wearing a ring that means more than any official ceremony ever could.

He gets to watch a big grin spread across Louis’ face after he wakes up too and blindly runs his thumb over the golden band encircling his ring finger.

“Did you think I took it back or something?” Harry snorts, humming into their morning kiss after Louis explains that last night was so perfect he had to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

The sun has barely even risen when they’re forced out of the warmth of Louis’ bed so that he can get home to his family who surely missed him the night before. And even though the palace isn’t exactly high on Harry’s list of places to be at the moment, he should be getting back too. But not before promising to be back at sunset for Louis’ show and also maybe have a late dinner at his house afterwards so he can spend time with him and his siblings properly. As a family.

He takes the long way home through the woods after Louis finally put his foot down and demanded they put on clothes or else risk wasting the entire day nude in bed. Not that Harry would ever be bothered by such indulgence. They’d never wear clothes or get out of bed again if it were up to him which is probably why he got kicked out but Harry’s just so bloody happy he can’t even be bothered by _that_. It’s like he’s freefalling from the highest peak in the world with no sign of land in sight. And all because in a wonderful and lucky twist of fate, the man that Harry loves, somehow loves him back.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Harry finally arrives home just as the sun creeps above the tall palace towers meaning breakfast has been over for a while now and the King definitely noticed that he wasn’t in attendance. His father’s thoughts on him staying out all night doesn’t concern him, neither does his opinion on Harry strolling right through the palace gates rather than climbing over the wall as usual. What’s the point in sneaking around when they both know where he’s been anyway.

Given that it’s already mid-morning, Harry doesn’t expect to run into many people on his way to his bedchamber. He figured all the servants would be off completing their daily tasks, a couple guards would be out looking for him, and his father and his advisors would be huddled up in a meeting room somewhere trying to decide what to do with a defiant, rogue Prince but it seems quite the opposite. The guards aren’t even here which is strange enough all on its own, but it’s the servants who make Harry feel as though he has missed something because every one of them that he passes is hard at work milling about the palace carrying food, wine, and fresh flowers as if preparing for a ball and only stop to bow and offer Harry congratulations before hurrying off again.

It happens a few times before Harry stops two seamstresses transporting rolls of expensive fabrics and a new outfit made from the same materials out of the sewing room. He glances down at the beautiful green jacket the shorter women is holding, wondering who it’s meant for since he hasn’t asked for anything new in ages.

“Good morning, Your Highness! And, congratulations!” they bow in unison. And it’s not like Harry doesn’t appreciate such a warm welcome home from everybody, he’s just getting really annoyed by it because he’s done nothing to deserve it.

“Congratulations for what exactly?” he asks carefully.

The seamstresses exchange quick, amused glances before facing him again. “Well, the engagement of course, Your Highness,” the taller one smiles making Harry’s blood run cold. “What else?”

As far as Harry knows, the only thing even resembling an engagement that has taken place recently is the very private moment he and Louis shared last night at the theatre but there’s no way anyone else could know about that. They were completely alone the entire time and even though it has been a while now since they parted, Harry hasn’t seen a soul whom he could tell about it.

“What are you talking about? What engagement?” he blurts out in a terse manner, making both women blink back in alarm. “I- I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes when he realizes the sharp tone he took. He takes a measured breath and releases it to calm himself before speaking again. “Forgive me. Could you please tell me what’s going on? Whose engagement all this is for?”

“Well, it’s- it’s for _your_ engagement, Your Highness. To Lady Caswell last night,” the shorter woman answers nervously, looking like she wishes she hadn’t when Harry blinks at her in disbelief.  

“The King announced it officially just this morning and he said you-” the other woman begins to explain, but Harry only hears half of it before he’s gone and headed straight for the throne room.

 

The heavy double doors slamming against the walls echo throughout the entire palace as Harry bursts through them without warning, without being introduced, and without giving a shit what anybody, especially his father has to say about it.

“What the hell have you done?” he demands, but this time, no apology follows it.

His father meets his gaze with boredom visible in his features as he has ever since Harry was child which only makes Harry angrier because this isn’t some tantrum. Telling everyone he’s engaged to someone when he’s not isn’t some game.

“Good morning to you too. Glad to see you’ve made it back,” his father answers after a while of staring him down in complete silence, but Harry doesn’t waver. He can practically feel his blood boiling in his veins as the tension in the room gets thicker and thicker. “And to answer that little outburst of yours, _I_ haven’t done anything. It was _you_ who proposed to your future queen in the gardens last night just before the storm,” he says, letting the lie roll off his tongue with ease. “At least, that’s the story we’re going with. Lord Caswell already has the ring, but apparently, his daughter’s just as stubborn as my _son_ ,” he grumbles. “She will come around eventually. Just like you.”

“We’re not getting married. I won’t do this.”

“Oh, but you will,” the King assures him, his eyes almost daring Harry to contradict him. “You and Lady Caswell will be married by the end of the week and you will never see that actor again. I’ve already seen to that.”

The sheer confidence in his father’s voice makes Harry’s mouth go dry and his stomach turn to lead.

“W- What did you do?” he asks in a small voice when he manages to relocate his ability to speak, his anxiety only rising the longer his father makes him wait for an answer.

“I did what I had to do to protect this family.”

The King waves over one of his guards who hands him a beautiful jeweled ring identical to the one Harry gave Louis just a few hours ago. He’d recognize it anywhere.  

“That doesn’t belong to you,” Harry growls at the guard before turning his glare on his father. “ _Either_ of you.”

“It also doesn’t belong to Louis Tomlinson,” his father challenges him. “I had this ring recovered this morning from his home of all places.”

“Well, I should think so since it was a _gift_ from _me_ ,” Harry snaps back. “And- You sent guards after him like he’s some sort of criminal? To his _house_?”

His siblings must’ve been terrified. Louis himself must’ve been terrified as well and it makes Harry sick to imagine. He needs to go there immediately and apologize for all of this and hope Louis believes him that he had nothing to do with it.

“Well, perhaps the ring landed in his possession by mistake…” his father says down at his hands.

“Trust me, it was no mistake,” Harry interrupts, but his father pushes on.

“I’m sure you’re right since no one ever mistakenly _steals_.” Even just the word makes Harry’s skin crawl.

“Except, he _didn’t_ steal it. I already told you that _I_ -”

“But, it makes so much sense for him to have stolen it, doesn’t it? He has no money. He even stayed here in the palace overnight. He had plenty of opportunity to do so.”

It’s a total and complete load of shit. A horrible boldfaced lie that Harry can see start to eat at his father even as the words leave his mouth, his expression blank as he tries to appear unbothered by the act of framing an innocent man.

“You can be angry with me all you want, but I won’t let you do this to him,” Harry grits out. “He’d _never_ do something like that. Louis isn’t a thief!”

“But, he is,” his father counters, the finality in his voice snuffing Harry’s out. “And God only knows what the others might’ve taken while they were here too. But, it’s no matter. They’ve already been handled and so has Louis. He won’t be stealing again. At least not in this kingdom anyway,” the King says making Harry’s heart stop dead in his chest as a single nod has two guards turning towards him.  

“Wait. Please.”

Harry can’t even think straight past his own fear and guilt. Worried sick that something has happened to Louis and it’s all his fault.

“Please escort the Prince to his bedchamber until the celebration,” the King orders his men over Harry’s request. “Make sure he stays there.”

“W-Wait,” Harry says louder, his heartbeat resuming but at a rate much too fast. “W-What does that mean? Where is Louis?” His questions go unanswered and Harry’s breaths turn panicked as the guards close in on him and he tries to move out of their reach. “Just tell me if he’s alright. And what do you mean ‘ _not in this kingdom’?”_

Harry still receives no answer. Not even a glance of sympathy from the King, unable to even look at Harry as he’s forced out into the corridor.

“Father, please! Tell me what that means!” Harry begs but all he gets as a response is the heavy slam of the throne room doors shutting in his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry is sure his floor is probably eroding beneath his feet from how many times he has paced over it in the last several hours. There’s no real point in it, he knows. Each time he has tried to leave he’s been caught and brought right back to his bedchamber, but not trying isn’t really an option when somewhere out there, Louis is in trouble.

A knock at his door nearly causes him to jump out of his skin, but he calms and breathes a thousand times easier seeing that it’s not his father. It’s just Niall.

Harry crashes into his friend’s embrace the moment he sees his arms held open wide.

“I came as soon as I could. Are you alright?” his best friend asks.

Harry lifts his head, shooting a glare at the extra guards standing at the end of his corridor. There are also guards below his window meaning he can’t even make a run for it there.

“This whole thing is a mess but I’ll be fine,” he quickly answers his friend before getting to the questions that truly matter. “Where’s Louis? Tell me he’s alright. Have you spoken to him at all?”

The light that can usually be seen in Niall’s eyes was already noticeably dim, however it seems to go out completely as he sadly blinks down at the floor. Seeing that is even worse that all the horrible things Harry has been imagining.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Harry whispers, terrified to actually know what awful thing his father did.

“It’s not good, Haz. Not for any of them,” Niall frowns, meeting Harry’s gaze again with his expression more troubled than Harry’s ever seen it. “Acting is forbidden again so The Blackwater is done, but I think most everyone will be alright.”

“ _Most_ everyone?” Harry pushes, feeling his stomach lurch when Niall finally says the word that Harry has been praying to not hear.

“He banished him, H. Theft is the official reason why, but everyone knows that’s a load of shit.”

“B-Banished?” Harry repeats the word like he’s never heard it before. So that’s what his father meant.

Hot tears begin to prick at the back of his throat as he tries to absorb what’s happening but all he can think about is Louis being sent a thousand miles away from him and his family.

“He has until sundown to leave, but I don’t know what he’s going to do, Haz. Being branded a thief is almost- Well, it’s-”

“As good as being sentenced to death,” Harry finishes for Niall, hardly even able to say the words.

He could try to act in another kingdom, but no one would ever trust him again. He’ll just be some lowly criminal everywhere he goes. He’ll be all alone, he’ll never find work because everyone will just assume he’s waiting to rob them blind, and his life will be over.

“I have to go to him. I have to go _with_ him,” Harry decides right then and there, however the guards standing by quickly change his mind. He sniffs, unable to stop tears from forming in his eyes as he realizes how hopeless this all is. That he and Louis may never see each other again. “If-If you see him please, Ni, I need you to tell him I’m sorry and everybody else too. Tell them I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Because he honestly, truly did not. Harry wasn’t looking to fall in love when he went to The Blackwater for the first time, but, he did. He fell in so far with Louis and everything to do with that place that he never looked back and now it’s all so fucked up that Harry can’t even breathe thinking about it.

“ _Hey, hey_ ,” Niall soothes him, pulling him back into a tight hug. “They know. And _he_ knows, Haz. Trust me. It took forever for me just to find out what happened because all he could do is ask about you and how you’re doing.”

Harry cracks a watery smile. To think, Louis’ being forced to leave the only home he’s ever known and his biggest worry is someone else. Harry loves him so much it hurts.

He glances at the window behind him at sun, still high in the sky but on the decline now that evening is approaching. As much as he wishes there were, there isn’t much time left between now and when the sun will go down for the night. And even though it kills him to think it, last night is probably the last they will ever spend together. Louis doesn’t even have his ring and that hurts Harry more than anything because when he gave it to Louis and said forever, he meant it.

“Just tell him I love him?”

Niall squeezes him tight, promising to do his best to find Louis before nightfall and tell him even though he claims there’s no way Louis doesn’t already know that too.

When Niall is gone, Harry is left alone again with nothing but his thoughts and they’re so loud inside his head they’re deafening. Downstairs everyone is getting ready to throw a huge celebration in honor of an unwanted marriage that shouldn’t even be happening, all the while Louis is getting ready to leave his sisters and brother forever. Who’s going to take care of them now? Louis won’t even be able to take care of himself let alone his loved ones who aren’t related to Harry but they feel like family regardless. Harry can’t let anything happen to them. He won’t. He also won’t let Louis leave here without hearing those words directly from him; without seeing Louis one last time. It might already be too late, but he has to try. He just has to.

*

Every fibre of Harry’s being tells him not to do what he’s about to, but he has no other choice. He has to get to Louis before he leaves or at least catch up to him wherever he’s going, therefore, he has to get past the guards standing watch outside his door. It’s not an impossible task. After all, Louis did it once, but Harry still has some reservations about his method. Mostly about the use of open flames just to create a diversion, but it’s the only option Harry has.

Harry moves the candle resting on his desk a little closer to the old robe hanging off his chair and prays it’ll be the only casualty amongst his belongings tonight. With a deep breath he picks up the candle and places its flame directly beneath the embroidered sleeve closest to it, wincing when it immediately catches fire and begins to burn through the entire robe.

He doesn’t have time to stand there and watch destruction ensue. Instead, he runs straight over to his door, yanks it open, and calls for help. All the guards standing at the end of his corridor come running just as he hoped, rushing into Harry’s bedchamber to put out the fire just as Harry casually grabs his jacket and slips out.

His normal escape routes are blocked by more guards so Harry decides to try for the gardens instead where he’ll have the most cover from the odd guard passing through. The moon is his only source of light as he uses the tall trees and hedges to help him across the gardens without being seen, but thankfully, the palace wall isn’t far away. Harry’s staring right at it. All that stands between them is a small fountain and Harry makes a run for it at full speed, freezing dead in his tracks when a person wearing a dark hood pops his head out from the other side of it and whispers his name. Harry has heard that voice boisterous and lively on a night on the town, and also, quiet and slow like honey first thing in the morning. He has listened to that voice give long soliloquies on stage that bring tears to an audience’s eyes and then say something so hilarious that same audience erupts into laughter. Harry would know it anywhere; anyplace at any time and he nearly sobs hearing it now because he thought he might never get to again.

“Haz!” Louis calls out quietly. “Harry, it’s me!” He stands up to remove his hood after a quick look around to make sure it’s safe and Harry runs straight to him.

He buries his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, breathing him in like oxygen, unable to believe he’s really there. “I’m so happy to see you, Louis,” he sniffs, feeling his throat start to burn again even though he’s getting exactly what he wanted. “I was coming to you. I wanted to see you, but my father had me held inside the palace and Niall said you had to leave by nightfall so I got out as soon as I could, but I thought I was too late and-” Harry stops to take a breath, feeling it catch in his throat as the first of many sobs leave him.

“It’s alright, love. Don’t cry,” Louis chuckles, though his words sound just as choked up as Harry’s. “You know I wouldn’t leave here without seeing you,” he whispers. “Without saying goodbye and telling you how much I’m gonna to miss you every day that I’m gone, because I will, Haz. I miss you already.”

It hurts more than anything Harry’s ever felt, clinging to the person he can’t live without, knowing he’s going to have to.

“Louis, I’m so, so sorry. If I had known this would happen. If I could take it all back, then-”

“Hey,” Louis smiles at him through watery eyes. “Then _nothing_. I wouldn’t want you to take it back. I’d choose it again and again, even if it ends just like this every time.”

The thought of this being the end for them makes Harry’s chest ache. This shouldn’t be goodbye. If anything, this is where their lives together should begin.

“I’m coming with you,” he decides without another thought, but Louis just laughs again and holds him tighter.

“No, you’re not. You’re not the one who’s banished. I am,” he whispers against Harry’s temple. “And, also, you’re the Prince, love. You have a whole kingdom here depending on you. It’s a part of you. That’s not something you can just walk away from.”

No, it’s not. But, it is something Harry can officially renounce if he so chooses. And right now with Louis in his arms, he’s got the only choice he ever needs.

Harry lifts his head, leaning in to quickly bring their lips together, but it’s not for the last time. Not even close.

“Come on. I have to talk to my father, and you’re coming with me,” he says taking Louis’ hand, but Louis doesn’t budge. He takes a step back, his eyes wide with fear as he looks at the palace towering over them.

“Haz, I’ve been banished. I could be killed just for being here. I can’t go in there. It’s treason. You know the King would never allow it.”

Harry would lay down his own life before he ever let that happen, but it won’t come to that because they’re both going to be fine.

“Well, the King will just have to get used to it,” Harry answers as he brings Louis’ hand up to his lips for a kiss, noting the absence of the ring that Harry plans to put right back on his finger. _Tonight_. “He’ll have to get used to a few things.”

~*~

Louis can feel the cold eyes of every guard he passes as Harry pulls him along inside the palace and orders any of them that tries to stop them to stand down. He has only been here once before, but Louis remembers these winding corridors. His stomach lurches and he kind of wants to be sick, each time he thinks of where and to whom they lead.

They reach the double doors of the throne room much too soon for Louis’ liking. His feet feel permanently sewn to the floor beneath him but it’s Harry’s sure voice and his kind eyes shining on him that make Louis’ feel less terrified to go in.

“Everything’s going to be fine, love. I’m going to fix this,” he promises.

Louis is pretty sure something this fucked up can be fixed, but he follows Harry into the room anyway to watch him try. He’d follow Harry anywhere. Even the last place on Earth he should be.

The King’s eyes narrow at him the moment they walk through the doors so Louis lowers his head, doing his best to be invisible as he holds tight to Harry’s hand, however, he can still feel everyone staring.

“Somebody doesn’t belong here,” comes an authoritative yet irritated voice from the throne at the head of the room, but it goes quiet when Harry speaks over it at twice the volume of his father.

“Yes, he does. And he’s not going anywhere. Louis is staying right here,” Harry tells him, turning to bring Louis’ hand up to his lips in front of all the guards, advisors, and even the King himself. “That is, if he’ll still have me of course?”

Louis’ heart stops dead in his chest, only picking up speed again when Harry’s dimples appear to punctuate his grin, making Harry’s eyes brighter than Louis’ ever seen them when he nods in answer.

“Good. Then it’s settled,” he whispers to only him wearing the happiest smile on the planet before he regretfully lets go of Louis’ hand to face the King once more. “It looks as though we’ll be needing that ring back please. _Louis’_ ring.”

Nobody says anything for so long that the fluttery, happy feeling in Louis chest starts to fade and his nerves come rushing back. He waits for what seems like an eternity before the King’s voice fills the room again in a condescending tone.

“So, you still don’t understand how this works,” he says with an exasperated chuckle to himself. “A prince- no. A future _king_ with what? _Another_ king at his side? Absolutely not.”

“But, why? What’s so wrong with that?” Harry counters. “Why does it have to be a woman by my side to help me rule and govern and be a good man when I already have someone who will do just that, and love me and make me happy just like I’ll do for him?”

“Because it’s not possible!” the King booms. “Great if you think you’ve found love but it’s not enough! You need an heir of noble birth to secure this throne and _he_ cannot give you one! The two of you can never have that! A _real_ family.”

Louis has never felt worse than having to listen to a list of all the things he can never have or be. And it’s not like Louis doesn’t know already. He has known he could never truly have Harry all along, but apparently, Harry doesn’t have those same concerns. He doesn’t see it that way at all.

“That’s not true,” Harry shakes his head. “There are plenty of orphaned children in this kingdom who need parents and homes, and oftentimes because of _your_ doing,” he spits. “It’s where Louis and his siblings would’ve ended up had he been younger when his mother died and you hadn’t lifted the ban on acting. It’s where his siblings might end up again if you send him away.”

That seems to resonate with Harry’s father more than anything else he has said. For the first time, his hard expression melts away and is replaced by one of compassion and regret. It only lasts a moment though. Just until he releases a long, weary sigh. “Harry, that may be true, but the child has to be of your blood. It’s the law and-”

“Well maybe it shouldn’t be!” Harry booms making even Louis jump from how loud it is. “You’re always going on about the king having the power to do anything. Change the laws,” he pleads. “Make it so that it’s alright for me to marry the person I love and have a family with him the same as everybody else.”

“I can’t do that,” the King snarls.                        

“You can,” Harry maintains. “You just _won’t_. And, unfortunately, that means I have to do something I really don’t want to and say that I can’t be your prince anymore.”

“ _Haz. Don’t_ ,” Louis tries but Harry won’t let him.

“It’s alright, Lou. I’m happy to follow you wherever you go,” he grins over his shoulder.

He can’t believe Harry just said that. That he would give up everything for them. Just like that, making the air in the room so thick Louis can hardly breathe.

The King looks just as stunned as he is, staring at Harry open mouthed. Obviously, unable to process such a betrayal. “You want to renounce your title for him and leave me without an heir? You want to give up your _birthright_?”

“No, I don’t. I want to be the great ruler that you think I can be someday, but not if it means giving up who I am,” he explains. “I don’t want to leave my kingdom, my home, or even you, but, I will. I’ll do whatever I have to for Louis and I to be together.”

It takes several minutes but eventually the King realizes he’s been backed into a corner that he can’t really get out of. He looks Harry over with a new regard, much different from the exasperated and frustrated expression he’s been aiming at his son. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d say it resembles something like respect.

“Well?” Harry asks when even he grows impatient waiting for the King to say something. Anything. “What is your answer? If it’s no then I just need to grab a few things and Louis and I can be on our way. We’ll be out of your kingdom as soon as-”

“Fine.” It’s only one word. A single syllable, but it fills Louis’ chest with more hope than he ever dared before this moment.

“F-Fine?” Harry repeats like he isn’t quite sure he heard that. “As in- As in, _yes_?”

“As in, _yes_ ,” the King answers after a pause, squaring his jaw like surrendering is the last thing he wants to do, but in the end, forces himself to give a succession of yielding nods. “It seems you’ve left me with no other choice,” he sighs. “So. What are your terms? I’m listening.”

Louis lets go of the giant breath he didn’t even know he was holding, smiling so big his face hurts when Harry’s victorious, dimpled grin is all he sees before he proudly takes Louis’ hand in his again, pulling Louis to stand right next to him before addressing his father again.

“I- _We_ have several terms,” he corrects himself. “Starting with my fiancé moving to the palace with us along with his family,” Harry proposes, watching his father’s jaw tense ever so slightly before he’s forced to nod in agreement.

“Alright. Done.”

“That’s _all_ members of his family…” Harry clarifies wearing a thin smirk he aims at Louis. “Including, Lucy, their cow.”

Louis snorts aloud, clearing his throat to regain composure in front of the King. “Er- Yes, Your Grace. What Harry said. Lucy comes with us.”

 

Three Years Later

 

There’s something, or rather, some _one_ standing behind the thick curtain in the book room. Louis has come to this conclusion because it’s literally the only place in the palace left that he hasn’t checked, and also, the muffled giggle coming from that direction is a tell-tale sign. So are the toes of a small pair of boots peeking out from the bottom of the curtain, which, besides that small fault in design would’ve been a fantastic hiding spot.

Louis edges closer toward the window, fondly rolling his eyes as the giggles grow louder.

“Hmm. I wonder what’s behind here?” he asks hearing the curtain go silent just before he snatches it back. “FOUND YOU!”

A shriek fills the room followed by a happy peal of laughter when Louis digs his fingers into a pair of tiny ribs just to hear his laughs grow louder.

“I _knew_ I’d find you in here!” he boasts, the two of them freezing at the sound of a knock at the door.

“Your Highness,” a voice addresses him after the door creaks open. “Please forgive the interruption, but you’re needed in the east study.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Louis says to the guard before he returns to his post and another face makes an appearance in the doorway.

“I heard screaming coming from here so I figured our little run-away had been found,” Louis’ eldest sister laughs. She holds out her hand towards Henry, snorting a laugh when the four-year-old forgoes grabbing it and crashes into her for a giant hug instead. She picks him up to rest on her hip and presses a row of kisses across his forehead. “I think Harry was just looking for you,” she says to Louis. “I can take Henry for a bit, if you need. We’re all just heading to the gardens.”

“Alright, sure. Thanks. I’ll come find you,” he promises, turning his gaze on the pink-cheeked little boy tucked into her side. “ _Both_ of you.” A fresh squeal fills the air when Louis tickles him again making his sister eye him with a flat expression because her ears are probably now bleeding. “Oops,” Louis snorts, waving them goodbye.

He leaves the book room as well when they’re gone, heading straight for the east wing. He follows the familiar corridors grinning back at each person that bows upon passing him, however he ends up being the one to bow when the door to one of the meeting rooms opens to reveal Harry’s father and several of his advisors filing out of it.

“Your Grace.”

“Louis,” the King nods at him. Louis expects for him to keep walking along with his advisors, but he stops and turns to him instead. “Are you busy later?”

Louis blinks up to meet a pair of green eyes much like that of Harry’s except the color is lighter and a bit faded from age. What’s most important is the fondness shining from behind them. It’s slight and not something that just appeared overnight, but Louis’ grateful for it all the same.

“I’m just going to find Harry now, but afterwards I should be free,” he answers.

“That’s perfect. Harry and I are set to go over some trading sanctions before dinner. I thought you might like to join if you’re interested.” 

Louis is never interested in matters of state but it’s quality time together, or, at least, as close to it as they ever get so he doesn’t turn it down. “Of course. Thank you for inviting me, Your Grace. I’ll be there.” he smiles, already dreading the hours he’ll probably spend cooped up in a meeting room, but at least Harry will be stuck there with him. That makes anything better.

He finds Harry a few minutes later in the east study just as expected, hunched over his desk reading something until he feels a pair of lips teasing the nape of is neck, the shell of his left ear, and then finally around to his jaw before Louis lets his chin rest on his shoulder.

“You needed me, love?”

Louis can feel his husband smiling where they’re cheek to cheek, watching Harry abandon the letter in his hands for another one lying half folded up with a thin blue ribbon beside it. He opens it and immediately Louis recognizes the same small, slanted scrawl he has read and memorized in so many play scripts that Louis has lost count.

“The Payne family are pleased to finally announce the highly-anticipated birth of their twin _sons_ , Max and Will. Arrived just this morning. Happy, healthy, and according to their father, _gorgeous_.”

“ _More_ boys?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis exclaims, snatching the letter from his husband to pace the floor as he reads the words for himself. Liam’s officially a father. It’s crazy to think but also kind of amazing because all his best friend has wanted since he turned Lady Caswell into Mrs. Payne is to have a child and the lucky bastard just got two at once. Louis had just assumed, or more, _hoped_ at least one of those children might be a girl since he and Harry already have a boy and Niall and Ana just welcomed their _second_. He and Harry are being outplayed.

“That’s _insane_. Jesus, they’re all going burn the town down together one day,” Louis tells his husband.

“I know. I don’t even think a girl would help balance it at this point. She’d just join in,” he jokes looking just a thrilled about all their kids growing up to be miscreants together as Louis is. They’ll have to go visit the new parents soon though. And although Louis merely helps write now and has mostly traded the stage for politics and his family, he wouldn’t at all mind helping out at The Blackwater since its famous playwright is sure to have his hands full for a while.

Harry pushes his chair away from his desk, an action Louis chooses to interpret as a direct request for him to take a seat there. A pair of arms wrap around Louis’ waist as soon as he sits down followed by a warm pair of lips that meet his in a perfect fit as they have from the very start.

“Missed you,” Harry hums with his nose pressed right against Louis’ neck to breath him in. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Chasing down _our_ troublemaker of a son,” Louis smiles. “Found him playing in the book room again, but he’s with his aunts and uncle now.”

“God, my parents used to have to force me to be in that book room,” Harry snorts. “I _hated_ reading. I pretty much ran from my tutors every chance I got.”

“Hmmm. Maybe _that’s_ why your father loves Henry so much and they get along so well,” Louis teases. “He knows he’s going to make a much better King than you.”

“ _Heey!”_

His husband retaliates immediately, tickling Louis in the side and making him shriek just as loud as Henry earlier.

Harry is no doubt going to make an excellent king someday so that was just a joke, however there is a bit of truth to the rest of what Louis said because the relationship between Harry and his father has always been interesting to say the least but it’s gotten better over the years. They love one another. Louis guesses they’ve just never really had much in common until recently. Until Harry became a father himself. According to Harry, the King was never the same after losing Harry’s mother, but Harry says he’s happier and more himself than he has been in years ever since Henry came into their lives. Henry lost his parents before he was even two and Harry and Louis were more than happy to take him in as their own. Now he has two fathers who love him more than anything in the world, aunts and an uncle, dozens of unofficial aunts and uncles from the theatre, and a whole kingdom full of people who adore and accept him as Harry’s legitimate son. Though, arguably, none more so than Henry’s grandfather, the ruler of them all.  

“Is everyone in the gardens then?” Harry whispers after his tickle assault has ended and they’re just sitting with one another in the quiet.

“Yep,” Louis grins, leaning into him. “Wanna join them?”

Harry glances around his study at all the things he has to take care of today, but in the end, gives an unbothered shrug. “All this can wait,” he smirks before smacking a kiss to Louis’ jaw. “After all, I’m not King yet.”

And, no, he’s not. However, bringing up his future title reminds Louis of the person who is currently the king and who practically demanded his presence.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. We have a _date_.”

Harry’s brow furrows at that information. “Who does? Me and you?”

“Mmm… and your father. And I’m sure a handful of his closest advisors to make it _really_ romantic,” he jokes watching Harry hang his head and release a small, pained whimper.

“ _Ugh_. Shit, I forgot about that,” he complains, frowning until his brain registers the rest of what Louis said. “Wait. _We_?” he grins. “As in…”

“Your father roped me into your misery with you? _Yep_ ,” Louis confirms “So, you know what _that_ means, don’t you, _Hubby_?”

“We only have a couple of hours of freedom left before we have to be responsible so we better go enjoy the sunshine with everybody else while we still can?”

Louis kisses his husband long and deep for thinking exactly the same thing as him, and also, for being just as lazy.

 

They make it out to the gardens in the fresh air, hand in hand until Henry spots them from the other side of the big fountain with all the colorful fish inside that everyone is huddled around. Their son abandons them all to run over to him and Harry, instantly grabbing their hands to force them over to see the fish too, talking a mile a minute. Louis can’t help but smile watching him instruct Harry on how to toss tiny bits of food into the water as if Harry didn’t show him first. Actually, Louis can’t help but smile these days full stop. He has more than he ever dreamed of.

“Apparently, there is more than one way to feed fish and I’m doing it all wrong,” Harry laughs. “Can’t get anything right.”

Louis disagrees, pulling Harry into a kiss and then holding him in place with a firm grip on his jacket to freeze the moment because out of all things Harry’s done, the two of them and their family is one thing he got completely right.

“What was that for?” Harry hums once Louis finally lets him go. “My impressive fish feeding skills?”

It was for giving them this incredible life together. For making Louis the happiest man on Earth by loving him, and vice versa of course, but Louis just fondly rolls his eyes, certain that Harry already knows. “Yep. It was exclusively about the fish, Princey,” Louis snorts. “Let’s go with that.”

~~*~~

**Author's Note:**

> Please share this [ rebloggable fic post](http://all-these-larrythings.tumblr.com/post/176228015526/what-our-souls-were-meant-to-do-by-rearviewdreamer) if you liked it!
> 
> As always, thank you Tabby for reading over this as I write it, and for all your help with so many others! You're the best <3 <3


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